


Wasting Away

by snaxarba (orphan_account)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Angst, Attempt at Humor, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Bottom Harry, Bottom Harry Potter, Dark Harry Potter, Dark Magic isn't bad, Drarry, Drug Use, Drugged Sex, Eventual Smut, Existential Crisis, Explicit Language, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Giving Up, Harry is a Parselmouth, Hogwarts, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Homophobic Language, I'll add on later, M/M, Magically Powerful Harry Potter, My first fic, Oblivious Draco Malfoy, Oblivious Harry, Parselmouth Harry Potter, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Powerful Harry Potter, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sexual Assault, Sexual Coercion, Slow Build, Slurs, Suicidal Harry, Suicidal Thoughts, Swearing, Tired Harry, Top Draco Malfoy, but between Harry and Draco, i know i'm missing something, kind of, trigger warning, zabini bashing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-30
Updated: 2017-09-27
Packaged: 2018-12-08 19:27:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 17
Words: 45,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11653164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/snaxarba
Summary: Harry Potter found himself back in Hogwarts. He tries his best to keep going with his life, he really does, but sometimes his fear gripped him like a vice and he couldn't breathe.Draco Malfoy seemed to notice Potter's little episodes. Malfoy was the last person Harry wanted to know about his problems. Yet, Malfoy hadn't done anything that would upset Potter.But both are so painfully attracted to each other but they're so dense!WARNING : the story isn't quite as compliant to the JKR world. I've bent the rules of Magic a little so not all Dark mages are bad. And also, Harry is a dark wizard. He also retained his Parselmouth abilities





	1. Leaving in a hurry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry Potter was fed up with his life. He really wanted to find a will.  
> Draco Malfoy could see the Golden boy vanishing - it started to worry him a little
> 
> [Excerpt]
> 
> Although Potter was still a massive prat, Draco had to admit the boy was to some degree attractive. He’d just began to inspect closer at his face when Potter’s eyes fluttered open and his dulled green eyes met Draco’s.  
> “Draco,” he breathed.  
> Draco was stunned to hear such soft and pleading tone of his name. It sent a chill down his spine and he tried to say something back. But before he could, Potter’s eyes watered and tears brimmed over to the edge. Without missing a beat, Potter scooped up his bag and left Potions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I started this on my Tumblr (http://snaxarba.tumblr.com/)  
> The characters are, of course, depicted from J.K Rowling's work, Harry Potter. So I take no credit for the amazing world she's made. The only credit I'll take is to contribute a little to the Drarry fanatics lmao.  
> I got positive feedback and people wanted me to continue so I thought - Why not?  
> Made me happy to get such lovely and demanding insistence on my sloppy writing ( I swear I did not grin like an idiot at my laptop screen )  
> There will be some Triggers in this story - depictions of violence, abuse and suicidal thoughts.. so on. Not this chapter but it will be in the story! Stay safe!!
> 
> Thank you for the support!
> 
> Drop a comment and a Kudos <3

Harry ran a hand through his already messy hair, making the right side stick up much more than usual. He was tired. Not the superficial tiredness of a student drowning in their studies or after a late night. No, his tiredness ran bone deep, resonating in every fibre of his being. He only wanted peace and quiet. He’d hoped that after the war, people would stop treating him as some sort of _celebrity_ as Snape mentioned in his first Potions class.

And it seemed, the whole school was not going to grant what Harry had hoped. It was too much of an expectation, Ron mentioned to him when he voiced out his thoughts. So, Harry was made to be a walking exhibition as he always had been, but it was far worse than what he’d experience before beating Lord Voldemort.

Students would come and gape at him. Whispers and giggles surrounded him wherever he travelled. If he was caught alone, without Hermione or Ron, a swamp of teenagers would crowd him. Sometimes they lured him outside and asked him out on dates. He kindly rejects all offers and would return to the common room which held the remaining students that came back from last year – which wasn’t much.

Harry was dawdling in the corridors up to Potions, drawing out as much time as he could. It pained him to see his Potions class without the ever-ending hate he’d felt for Snape. No matter how much he hated Snape, Harry still missed the bitter man. He couldn’t really find comfort in any classes. By the time he got to Potions, he didn’t realise how early he was.

Harry had slipped out of the Great Hall from breakfast much earlier than he’d expected. He sat at a desk and slipped his bag down to the stone floor. Resting his head on his arms, he began to doze off, surely, he’d be woken up by the chatter of his fellow class mates. And not long after, he really did sleep. Harry needn’t the sleep, not really. He was just tired and fed up. He really wanted to cry, to laugh, to be angry. But he couldn’t muster any of those feelings apart from his usual state of absent-mindedness.

He mulled over his thoughts. He’d lost so much of what he had discovered. He knew others suffered from loss, so he would never complain about losing anybody. He also had lost his motivation to keep trudging through life. All he knew was how to sacrifice himself, how to be brave and heroic. How to keep to himself and he really thought that he would know how to keep on surviving too, based on his numerous run ins at Death’s door.

It seems that he was wrong. He couldn’t go through surviving when he had no reason to survive. He had no one to survive _for_. He always had his best friends, his god father, his teachers, his school mates and the whole wizarding world. But not anymore. They’re attempting at a recovery from the war. To stop and sort their life out before going along with the flow.

But Harry’s never been good at that. He always had been going against the grain. So what good did it do to him if he were to follow the grain? A leaf he had tried to turn but was snatched away from his first birthday. Harry train of thought soon concluded and he slept mulling over the thought of concluding himself – which was a sweet thought.

 

\--

 

Draco was walking along with Pansy, Blaise and Daphne over to potions. He smiled faintly hearing his friends banter over Pansy’s obsession with the colour pink and their relations to pigs.

“No! Pink is _my_ colour,” Pansy declared.

“Yes, and pigs are depicted as pink curly tailed animals used for eating,” Blaise prodded her sides.

They continued their banter all the way to Potions and suddenly stopped. Draco was confused at their sudden halt and shoved them aside, only to stop himself after he saw what was presented to him.

Potter was asleep with one arm dangling down and the other cushioning his head full of messy raven hair. His glasses were crooked on his face and he looked extremely tired. His usually vibrant tanned skin was looking paler – as if he’d never seen the sun before. His ridiculous glasses couldn’t hide the dark shadows under his eyes. Potter twitched and grimaced in his sleep

Pansy walked over to Potter quiet as she could and tapped his scar lightly. Potter twitched again and groaned. Draco shot a look at Pansy, but she ignored his discouraging stare and brushed Potter’s hair back before touching the scar full on.

Potter’s body heaved and a quiet sob escaped his mouth. Draco wondered what he could ever be dreaming about to cause such a sad display. Sleep should be a rather peaceful experience. Yet Potter is making the easy task look like torture with his grimace. Draco strode over to Pansy’s side, followed by Blaise then Daphne.

“Do you think he’s having a nightmare?” Daphne questioned.

“Maybe he’s dreaming of Pansy in pink,” Blaise suggested and was smacked at the back of his head by Pansy.

While the three of them were bantering again, Draco bent over to inspect Potter’s worn face. Although Potter was still a massive prat, Draco had to admit the boy was to some degree attractive. He’d just began to inspect closer at his face when Potter’s eyes fluttered open and his dulled green eyes met Draco’s.

“Draco,” he breathed.

Draco was stunned to hear such soft and pleading tone of his name. It sent a chill down his spine and he tried to say something back. But before he could, Potter’s eyes watered and tears brimmed over to the edge. Without missing a beat, Potter scooped up his bag and left Potions.


	2. A little bewildered for both parties

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What an eventful day it must be for Harry.
> 
> He came crashing with a figure as he didn’t pay attention to his surroundings. His books came tumbling everywhere and he cussed beneath his breath. He bent down to pick them up and he heard a scathing voice that could only belong to Malfoy.
> 
> Some trigger warnings - there will be descriptions of suicidal thoughts coming later on. Not this chapter but it will be in the story! Stay safe!!

 

Harry was humiliated to have been crying in front of Malfoy. Granted it was unconsciously and he couldn’t control it, but _still_. He internally beat himself up and was extremely frustrated. When he locked himself inside of a broom cupboard, he sighed. This brought back some memories of the Skeeter woman interviewing him in fourth year about the Triwizard Tournament.

His eyes closed for a moment, with his back against the door. He dreamt of his friends and all he ever cared about turn on him and shunned him as he accepted his accusations of him being the one to blame for not being able to save them. He reached out to brush his cheeks and eyes with the back of his hand.

Surprised and bewildered, he marvelled at the wondrous feeling of being able to cry. How it happened it didn’t matter because he spent God knows how long in that cupboard sobbing like a pitiful child. Once he was done, he really would rather snog a dragon than go back to that class and have Malfoy and his gang tease him to no ends.

He walked out of the tiny room and pulled up short as he remembered something. He had whispered Malfoy’s name so softly that he hoped Malfoy wouldn’t have heard him. Or else, he would drown himself in the lake with the giant squid.

He decided to spend the rest of his period wandering around the castle and sitting at empty rooms. He lost track of time so easily that when he broke from his daze, it was almost dinner time. He’d skipped a day’s worth of lessons and he should worry as he must pass his exams. The faster he gets his results, the faster he’d become an Auror.

Harry couldn’t think of any other jobs he’d be so invested in. Sure, he could teach at Hogwarts as he had proved to be an excellent teacher during his DA days. But again, he only did that to fight off evil. As he said, he only knew how to safe others, sacrifice himself and be brave. He knew how to fight, how to make decisions. He’s more than ready to find motivation out of his prolonged existence.

He smiled to himself bitterly as he walked down to the Great Hall. _The Boy who Lived, Twice_ , he thought to himself sardonically. It’s such a stupid sight for Voldemort to be bested by a baby and be bested by the same baby he tried to destroy. All because of power and the path to immortality. For a Slytherin, he sure wasn’t as cunning and smart as half the people he knew in that house.

He caught himself, Harry was giving a backhanded compliment to the Slytherins and his brows creased together. What an eventful day it must be for Harry.

He came crashing with a figure as he didn’t pay attention to his surroundings. His books came tumbling everywhere and he cussed beneath his breath. He bent down to pick them up and he heard a scathing voice that could only belong to Malfoy.

 

\--

 

Potter didn’t come for the rest of the Potions class. Nor did he see him in the Great Hall. He couldn’t forget the tears that cascaded over onto his cheeks. His usually bright and lively green eyes were dull and cloudy. He was left pondering by the scene that had presented itself to him.

He wasn’t paying attention to his surroundings and bumped headlong onto a person. He stumbled backwards and held on to his bag to prevent the contents from spilling. The other victim was not so lucky and had their books strewn across the floor. He saw that he had collided with Potter and his lips curled.

“Watch where you’re going, Potter,” Draco scorned, not realising he himself was also lost in his own thoughts.

“I’m sorry,” Potter’s voice came softly.

Draco stared in bewilderment at the Potter who just apologized. Usually they would’ve been at each other’s throats at this point. It always had been that way. One party antagonizes the other and they’d both start to tear at each other’s throats as if brewing another war. But not now. Potter stood up after packing his books and shuffled along to the direction of the Astronomy Tower.

Draco walked back onto his course to the common room as he shivered in disgust. A nice Harry Potter is a sight to behold but this pitiful and empty shell of a saviour was unhinging. It didn’t take Draco long to forget about him and chat along with his friends.

He, of course, was still getting used to having to share with the other houses. Well, what’s left of the other houses anyways. There were at least five students from each house that returned from the war. The rest were either dead or already moved on. He couldn’t blame them not wanting to stay in Hogwarts really. If it were up to him, he wouldn’t have gone either. But his friends were coming back and they wrote to him, asking if he’d also come. Knowing that they were Death Eaters in the past, it was a very bold move to return to Hogwarts.

But none of them had gotten picked on since saint Potter silenced the Hall saying that they didn’t have a choice. That they were all just trying to save themselves and their families. Harry admitted that if it were up to him, he’d also join forces with whoever he could to ensure the safety of his loved ones.

“ _-not that I have any_ ,” Potter had said with a forlorn voice at the end.

They continued their normal banter until Potter slowly faded away from many public places and had kept to himself. His image never faded, in fact it became stronger as he was portrayed as their Saviour.

“Bet you love this attention, don’t you, oh Saviour Potter,” he once said to the _saint_.

Potter just shot him a betrayed look before he shook his head quietly, to himself, Draco thought, and left the Great Hall. That was the first hint of Harry Potter trying to vanish himself into the shadows like a spider in the light. Draco was puzzled and furious at the same time at being ignored by such a twat.

Of course, the talks didn’t fade. He still saw students sending them dirty looks. It seemed that Potter also saw this and said to the other years that they had no choice. That they didn’t know what love could drive somebody to do and that the Dark Lord was very good at manipulating those around him. Draco flinched whenever he heard Potter say the Dark Lord’s name so casually but he always lessened the Voldemort count whenever he was around Draco and his gang.

Draco took off his robes and wore his pyjamas, sitting on his bed with a book perched against his knees. The rest of the boys had come over to the dorms and were starting to get ready for bed. A tall shadow loomed over his bed and he looked up to see Weasley looking uneasy at him.

“Uh, hey? Um,” the incoherent ginger said to him.

“Spit it out Weasel,” Draco snapped impatiently.

Weasley seemed to have been annoyed at this nickname and shot him a warning glare.

“Wanted to know if you knew where Harry is.”

“Potter?”

“Yeah, the guy you’re in school with who wears old spectacles and has a lightning scar on his forehead,” Weasley made circles with his fingers and held it to his eyes.

“I know who he is,” Draco said irritably, “and no, I haven’t seen our saviour. Probably having a massive wank over defeating the Dark Lord and becoming such a glorified _saint_.”

“Back the fuck off, Malfoy.” Weasley swore.

“Why? Is Potter alright?” Draco ignored his tone.

“None of your sodding business.” And Weasley left to go to his own bed.

Draco rolled his eyes and set down his book. Shutting the curtains around his bed, he laid down and went off to sleep.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My Tumblr (http://snaxarba.tumblr.com/)  
> The characters are, of course, depicted from J.K Rowling's work, Harry Potter. So I take no credit for the amazing world she's made. The only credit I'll take is to contribute a little to the Drarry fanatics lmao.
> 
> Thank you for the support!
> 
> Drop a comment if you wish for more junk and a Kudos <3


	3. Astronomy Tower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry wasn't asleep, Draco couldn't sleep.
> 
> They've both ended up at the same places.

Harry was wondering around the castle as he would every night, under his invisibility cloak. He’d go over the secret passages and go into each empty classroom. However, every night, he seemed to always go to the Astronomy Tower before returning into the dorms. There was no reason for Harry to end up there, only to relive Dumbledore’s last moments, if he had to guess why.

Harry had spoken up for Malfoy’s trials earlier in the year. The Ministry needed too much convincing to set Mrs. Malfoy and her son free. Mr. Malfoy was a lost cause for Harry and he couldn’t save him. Now the man was in prison – but not Azkaban. Harry had begged that much. They doubted Harry, saying he was probably under the influence of the Imperius Curse. But Harry could fight the curse, he was, after all, one of the greatest Wizards to have roamed the Wizarding world now.

 

Harry was sat down on a chair in the middle of the court and was bombarded with question after question. His head started to ache but he was relieved it was unrelated to Voldemort or anything about the war.

“Silence!” The judge, Song Chen, banged her gavel three times before refocusing on Harry, “Mr. Potter, whenever you’re ready.”

The room was hushed, little whispers here and there, and then quiet again.

“It wasn’t their fault, Miss,” his voice trembled. He wasn’t scared or anything, he just didn’t know how to piece his mind together.

“Draco Malfoy was forced to kill Dumbledore, to let the Death Eaters in.” The room was starting to grow in volume.

“Mr. Potter, he had no traces of being under the Imperius Curse or anything else. He did it himself.”

“No, you don’t understand. He wasn’t given a _choice_. Just like how I wasn’t given one too.” Harry fisted his hands and kept his composure. “Voldemort threatened to have Malfoy suffer and killed.”

“That goes for the rest of us!” A voice came from the audience.

The rush of voices, shouting, whispering, talking everywhere with anger. It drowned Harry’s thoughts. He couldn’t get his story straight and he _needed_ to get it straight. He guessed that he was in Malfoy’s trial because he had a debt with both Draco and Narcissa. Draco had tried to let him get away from the Snatchers and Narcissa had told Voldemort he was dead in the Forbidden Forest. But he also could relate to Draco Malfoy to a certain extent.

Both boys weren’t given a choice. Their lives were already planned before they could crawl. They were never seen as normal boys. The Chosen One and the Death Eater. Mortal enemies in the war. But Harry never felt his hatred for Malfoy as deeply as his hatred for Umbridge. Which made him question why he should hate the git. None. There was no reason anymore.

Harry’s patience snapped as he stood up and waved his hand. He felt a great rush of magic ripple in him and exploded around the room. The room was horrified and astonished all the same. It was quieter at once. He cleared his throat and could see the Malfoys frigid pose shift slightly.

“Madam Chen, do you happen to have a Pensieve at disposal?”

“Yes, sir,” she instructed two Aurors in the courtroom to fetch the shallow stone dish.

“I will show you some of my memories – in particular, memories to prove the Malfoys’ innocence. If that’s alright with you?” his voice faltered, he wasn’t in charge. But Madam Chen didn’t mind.

At the return of the Aurors and the Pensieve, Harry breathed and racked his brain to make the memory as vivid as he could. He muttered a spell and took out his first memory, putting it into the Pensieve. Madam Chen went forward along with an Auror.

The first memory was Draco Malfoy’s reluctance to kill Dumbledore at the Astronomy Tower. It came with Snape’s memory of his and Narcissa’s Unbreakable Vow meeting to protect Draco from Voldemort’s task to spite Lucius. Dumbledore had put a Full Body-Bind Curse over Harry and hid him under his invisibility cloak. Draco had lowered his wand, proving he wasn’t able to kill the Hogwarts Headmaster, and Snape came in. He struck Dumbledore square in the chest with the Killing Curse. He was then set free after Dumbledore’s death and pursued Snape, blind hatred washed over him.

Madam Chen and the Auror came to the surface and gave meaningful glances over at each other.

“He’s telling the truth, Draco Malfoy was not able to kill Dumbledore, Severus Snape had killed him.”

“He still let in the Death Eaters!” A voice emerged. And once again the room was full of shouting and accusations.

 

It really had drained Harry. To convince stubborn adults of something because of fear and hatred and anger. _Just like fourth and fifth year_ , he thought bitterly. The Ministry was adamant in not accepting the truth about the Dark Lord. That was when he was met with stinking Umbridge. Cornelius Fudge sure was a delirious old man who was wrapped up in fear.

Harry took his Invisibility Cloak off and put it in the pocket of his robes. Harry never went back to the Dorms after his literal run in with Malfoy. He missed dinner and grabbed food from the Kitchens instead. He was a little surprised to still see the House-Elves working as if there was never a war. But there was a change in how they acted.

The Elves, if they were fond of Harry before, then they were ecstatic to see the Saviour come back. Little pointy eared creatures crowded Harry, holding up platters of food for Harry to take with him. But he hadn’t the space and took whatever he thought was the most delicious and drank hot chocolate whilst waiting for the ordered foods. He had thanked the elves before heading off to the Tower with a much heavier bag.

Harry, either a masochist or just a plain madman, always sat in the spot where he witnessed Albus Dumbledore’s death. He ate a treacle tart while staring at the spot his former headmaster stood. How easy was it to be killed with a simple spell? A spell that cannot be reversed. It brought him to Snape’s memories of hatred for Dumbledore, who could not save Lily.

Shoes scuffed on the stone floor and Harry whirled around, pointing his wand at the sound. It was Malfoy, with his hands up.

 

\--

 

_“Kill him, Draco!” Bellatrix’s voice piercing in his ear._

_Draco couldn’t, he couldn’t. There stands a man, not just any man, Dumbledore. His body was tense and his hands were shaking. His throat constricted and he couldn’t breathe. He wasn’t a murderer, it didn’t matter if he had the Death Eater symbol, he never had wanted it. He thought it was the right choice but then again, he was never given a choice._

_The scenery changed – they were back in the castle courtyard. Dumbledore transformed into Potter and he was lying on the ground. The Dark Lord was there with his snake wrapped around his feet. Harry Potter was declared dead._

_Harry Potter was dead, the Dark Lord started to murder those opposing him. Harry Potter was his last hope, yet he was dead. He can’t ever escape from the lunatic now! Why did he even had tried to spare Potter’s life! It was all meaningless, he could never be free! The Dark Lord was there – his arms welcoming those who were trying to join the winning side._

_He knew this scene. He would walk over to the Dark Lord, Potter would revive from the dead like he always would, and Draco would throw his wand over to Potter. The dark side cannot possibly win. He was waiting for the moment Potter would revive, but the Chosen One never did. He was dead._

_Lord Voldemort turned to Draco and readies to use the Cruciatus Curse on him._

 

Draco was awake before he could feel the pain of the curse. It was just a dream but in no way, could he fall back to sleep. The Weasel was snoring extremely loud that it seemed to shake the stone walls. He’d contemplated on hexing the boy to shut up, but that’d just be a waste of his time and the venom was already starting to ebb away. Albeit extremely slowly, it was still progress nonetheless.

Draco didn’t want to stay in his bed. He wanted to roam around the castle, but he halted himself and thought of the dangers and the school rules. It’s proved to be a useless contemplation, because the next thing he knew, he was already out of his bed and threw his cloak on. A wand in his hand and casted a _Tempus_ – 5:30 a.m. It’s soon to be time for breakfast anyways, so might as well.

He slipped out of the common room and went down into the kitchens. The House-Elves were still awake. Draco thought they were most likely preparing breakfast for the school. Three house elves tended to Draco as he ordered for a mug of hot chocolate and pudding. He craved sweets after that particularly exhausting dream.

He went out of the kitchens with the last of his pie and went roaming around the castle. He didn’t know he missed the building. He felt nostalgic, walking around the corridors. He remembered the first time he got caught sneaking out. It was bloody brilliant, feeling all the rush of adrenaline and the guilt that dropped into his stomach when ten points was taken from his house. It worried him sick – now, the guilt paled in comparison to when he let the Death Eaters in. _Never again_.

He didn’t quiet set a course to where he’d go to, but somehow, he ended up going to the Astronomy Tower. He’d always liked the subject Astronomy, so to have the Tower tainted in his mind was rather off putting. He still enjoyed Astronomy, just not the Tower. He grew colder as he got up. He dragged his feet up the stairs and heard rustling.

Potter was there too, he was in a defensive stance, his wand pointed straight at Draco’s chest. Draco put his hands up in surrender. Potter was certainly not over the war – but then again, who was? It’s too early to forget about anything.

Potter seemed a little deranged, if Draco was to be honest. His messy hair was even more messed by the wind. He didn’t even know Potter’s hair could get any messier. The bags under his eyes were more prominent than ever, his eyes were alert and he was shaking. The Golden boy recognised Draco and lowered his wand.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean – “

“No, it’s just a defensive habit, isn’t it?” Draco stated.

Potter slowly nodded and sat back down, Draco sat next to him. He frowned a little at Draco but maybe he decided there was nothing to it. Potter was looking much skinnier than he’d been when he last saw him at the Manor. His robes seemed too big even though it would have fit him perfectly should he gain the weight he’s lost. Haggardly, that’s the word Draco looked for.

“What’re you doing up here?” Potter started.

“I could say the same about you,” Draco rose an eyebrow, “in fact, you didn’t even come back to the dorms.”

Potter had a smile on his lips that did not reach his eyes. It was as fake as a fake smile could get.

“Couldn’t really sleep you know?”

Draco nodded. Yes, he knew. He just had a nightmare and he didn’t think having a peaceful sleep for the remainder of the night was very plausible. However, Potter did not sleep at all. Not even a wink. Maybe he was fine from the little nap he had in Potions, before class started. Who knows? Maybe he didn’t return because he was dozing off somewhere.

“So, what brought you here?” Potter inquired.

“Same instance as you.”

“No,” Potter shook his head slightly and a whisper of a smile was on his face, “I meant, out of everywhere in Hogwarts, why choose a section that holds painful memories?”

“Potter, you do realise you were here too that night, right?”

“Yeah. It really doesn’t matter where I go,” he let out an amused chuckle, “anywhere is painful enough.”

Draco agreed. He didn’t want to admit it, but sometimes he’d avoid specific places because it was the most painful for him to be in.

“How long were you there for?” Draco asked Potter. He could see that Potter knew what he meant.

“The whole time. I saw you hesitate.”

Draco tutted drawing a questioning from Potter. His head tilted a little, asking for a silent explanation. Draco laid back on the hard ground and looked at the ceiling.

“Was that why you could be there for the trials?”

“Malfoy, I’ve always known whatever was happening with you. An obsession I manifested during your suspicious act in sixth year.” He mused.

“Seems legit,” Draco picked the phrase from some of the muggle-born students.

“It’s getting light. Want to go back?” Potter stood up and gave Draco a hand.

He shrugged and took Potter’s cold hand. They walked to the dorms in peaceful silence. It struck Draco, when they arrived in the common room, that that was the single most civilised and complete conversation the two ex-rivals had. It wasn’t unpleasant, rather the contrary.

Draco enjoyed the company of the moronic scarhead.

And Harry enjoyed the company of the insufferable ferret.


	4. Harry Potter might just spring both ways

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Alright, apparently our Golden boy was stalked by the media, as per usual. It turns out that the press had been pleased with their hard job of noting every move Potter made, because sure enough, they came with this story!” Pansy squeaked, “he was apparently in with the muggle, by in I meant that they were not just friends, if you catch my drift.”
> 
> Draco was confused, Harry is as awkward as ever and Blaise might just go after the Golden boy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd say Happy Birthday to Harry Potter, but alas! I wrote the chapter a say too late!
> 
> Thank you for the support, it really does help to get my brains in gear.  
> I will be doing my Career's Pathways soon so I might not get too much writing done.  
> If you've prompts for the story, I could squeeze it in! It would help me lots with my lack of creativity (ಥ﹏ಥ)
> 
> Have a great 1st of August, lads!!

It was a particularly bright and sunny day. Everybody was conversing extra cheerily and that meant it would be twice as hard to keep up with his appearances. He cannot slip his façade, he’s done so well so far. He knew he could feel his sanity slip sometimes, but it’s almost NEWTs and the end of the year. He had to keep going.

He sat down and began to shovel eggs and bacon onto his plate. Ron was, as always, piling his plate high to the sky with food. Hermione scowled at Ron and began to read another one of her massive textbooks. It always warmed his heart to see the familiar scene of his friends acting just the way they had all those years.

Harry forced himself to down his eggs and bacon and excused himself. Hermione and Ron smiled up at him before going back to their activities. Harry really loved his best friends. They’re so caring and made his life better than the bleak world he finds himself in on more than one occasion.

Harry was alone as he trudged through the grounds. He was in front of the lake, under a large tree, and saw the giant squid that had occupied the lake. As he sat down, he took his wand and started to create pointless silver wispy strings that followed Harry’s wand pattern. One of the joys of magic was the wonder and beauty. Harry had always loved the sensation of magic, he sometimes still thought he was dreaming, but he always woke up to the hum of magic in his bloodstream.

His magic seemed to have grown stronger over the years. Stronger than Voldemort and Dumbledore combined. He eluded death twice and thwarted an evil Dark Lord from his conquest for power. Harry was as much a Dark Wizard as any other dark wizards. A shocker for those who believed he possessed Light magic.

He started to create patterns with his silver string before a group of giggling girls came up to him. He encountered this often, as he was the Chosen One. There was a single girl who was being pushed in the middle of the bunched girls, looking extremely red and shy. Oh boy, another confession to come his way.

Harry stood up and smiled. He leaned against the tree and greeted the girls. The girls swooned at the Golden boy and they pushed the one in the middle further towards Harry before they left. He could see they were hiding and wanted to watch the scene. An inconvenience, but he won’t let that bring him down.

“Hey, what’s your name?” Harry said softly. He masked his nervousness as best he could. But it didn’t worry him too much, he’d always been good at masking his feelings.

The girl was fidgeting with her skirt. She glanced around as if wanting the ground to swallow her up before she took a deep breath in and blushed again. The girl tucked her dark brown hair, showing her petite and pretty face.

She had soft brown eyes to match her hair and her skin was a rich deep brown. She had little freckles sprinkled around her face and had little plump red lips. Harry assumed it was some lipstick. Nonetheless, this girl was above the average in terms of female attractions. The way she held herself with a timid aura was also attractive to Harry.

“Hello, I’m Sierra Shore,” she trembled.

Harry sat back down and patted the grass beside him. She took her seat and began to fidget with her shirt. Harry noticed that her shirt hugged her figure more tightly than a cling wrap might’ve. She certainly had a womanly figure than most in Hogwarts.

“So, what’s up?” Harry quipped.

“Nothing much, just a good day for outing.” She waved her hand to the sky.

Harry chuckled, “Sure is, how’re you doing?”

“I’m doing fine. Ever since the war, I’ve kept my distance from those who were… _there_ in the wrong.”

Harry patted her back awkwardly a few times before placing it still on her shoulder. He sighed heavily. That shouldn’t be the outcome for those who were in the wrong side of the war. She shouldn’t ignore and avoid, that’ll lead to another round of tension and unrest. He knew it was important she distance herself from people who might trigger her, but it didn’t mean they should slip away from them completely. Especially if they acted out of fear. _Just like Malfoy_ , his mind supplied.

“I- I,” she started with a heavy sigh, “Harry Potter, I like you. I’ve fancied you since I was just in second year and I was wondering- “

“What year are you in right now?” Harry interrupted.

“Uh, fifth year.”

Harry tutted and leaned back against the tree. He let his head hang to the side for a little while. To be completely honest, Harry had taken a liking to the girl. She was sweet, and Harry had to admit – she reminded him of Ginny. But fifth year was too young. He’s nearly eighteen now, she’s fifteen. That seemed too much like paedophilia for him.

Sierra cocked her head to the side and glanced at Harry with a questioning look before she averted her gaze and looked at the ground, a subtle blush creeping up on her. He smiled and leaned forward, catching her eyes and holding it. He put his hands to the small of her back, trying to be as gentle as he can with rejection. He knew that humans don’t handle rejection well. Hell, he was the rejected at one point.

“Ms. Shore, I’m afraid you’re too young for the things I’d want to do.”

Her eyes widened and she stuttered, her face was beet red and her hands were fisting the grass. She had uprooted some from the ground before she let go and grabbed onto a new patch of grass again. Harry’s eyes had also widened. Where the HELL did _that_ come from? He only meant being in a close relationship, but he didn’t realise his words sounded all dirty and wrong. He inwardly swore at his foolish Gryffindor trait.

“Um- Sorry did that make you uncomfortable? I didn’t mean- “ He shut himself up before something worse comes out of his goddamned mouth.

 She blushed even darker than he thought would be further as he leaned back and caught a glimpse of the girls talking furiously amongst themselves. Harry also blushed slightly. How was he so stupid and incoherent? He stood up and gave the girl a hand before he gave her thanks for being interested, but Harry was busy trying to recover. Shore was a considerate little girl and had nodded her head curtly before giving him an earnest smile. He also apologised once more for what he implied, he didn’t want to make the fifteen-year-old uncomfortable. That’s a little disturbing.

“Oh no, it’s fine. I was just… well, I hope you find happiness, Potter.” She left for her group.

He sighed and walked back to the castle and into the eighth-year common room. He saw Malfoy leaning against the window, a smirk plastered on his face.

“Potter, I didn’t know you were such a big flirt, you devil of a Saviour.”

Harry strode over to where Malfoy was and saw that the window was positioned right above the tree. He could see everything up here and had inwardly sighed. He could even see the spot where he conversed with the girl very clearly.

“No, I was just talking to her.”

“Yeah right, ‘ _I’m afraid you’re too young for the things I’d want to do’_ ” Malfoy mimicked. His smirk was replaced by a sneer, “save it for someone who believes it.”

Harry blushed slightly. Hang on. How’d Malfoy know what he was saying? He was inside of a castle and well away from hearing range. Malfoy saw Harry’s face shift from embarrassment to confused and sighed.

“Poor Potty. You’re, undoubtedly, the most vulnerable powerful wizard I’ve met. One of the Weasels gave me a product from Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes – it’s like the extendable ear, only it doesn’t need strings to attach it – and had the Weaslette slipped it in your pocket this morning.” He explained. “You’re actually quite the embarrassing one when it comes to flirting.”

Harry sighed. He didn’t know why he said what he said, but it wasn’t his intention to do that. He was equally flustered by the time their conversation was coming to an end. He’d hoped he would never talk to Shore any time soon. It’d give him a coronary to be reminded of his suave text.

Harry punched Malfoy lightly on the shoulder before going back into the dorms.

 

\--

 

Draco watched Potter turn and leave after giving him a soft pat with his fist. No, Potter did not punch Draco, it was merely a pat. With his bloody fist. And Draco was certainly _not_ feeling heated from the touch. He’s probably coming down with something. A cold perhaps. Which brought his attention back to the common room. It was rather cold, so he followed Potter to retrieve his robes.

Potter was sitting on his bed; his elbows were on his knees. He cradled his head with his hands. The small, hunched figure of Potter suggested some vulnerable undertones, however, Draco could feel the magic radiating from Potter. It was stronger now.

Draco let the door slam shut before going over to his bed. He picked the robes he left on the bed and put it on. When Draco turned back around, Potter was wiping his cheeks and stood up. Draco tried not to mention what he saw and went up to the Golden boy.

“Coming to dinner then, Potter?”

“Yeah,” Harry smiled. His smile seemed somewhat ingenuine, but he didn’t question it.

They both walked to the Great Hall and talked about Quidditch. He’d missed flying over with Potter. Sure, he was under competition to be a good Seeker after bloody Granger convinced half the school, and most importantly Potter, Draco bought his way into the team. He practiced extremely hard to rival Potter, only to have himself shot down. It didn’t help that Potter was exceptionally good, too.

“Want to go out flying with me sometime, Scar head?” Draco proposed.

“Oh yes, let’s,” Potter sounded happy and excited. It seemed that Potter might also miss flying.

They arrived at the Hall and said their goodbyes, parting towards their tables. Blaise and Pansy were making little paper cranes with magic. They levitated some and threw them towards the younger years. They exploded with showers of glitter, causing some to squeal in surprise. The glitter had evaporated before they touched people’s food though.

“That’s a brilliant show of magic,” Draco drawled, sitting himself next to Millicent, who was busy with her food.

“I know, right?” Pansy beamed.

Blaise continued to send cranes down the Slytherin before sending one over to the Ravenclaws. It hovered on front of a particularly busty girl, before it exploded and a shower of roses covered her. The girl turned to see Blaise smirk and winked at her. She puffed out her chest, not that she would need to, indignantly. But the blush didn’t prove her point.

“Shove over, you man-whore,” Pansy rolled her eyes.

“Hey, she’s a fine sight. Might as well covet it.” Blaise looked to Draco.

Draco snorted and didn’t back his friend up. This made Blaise pout, but he didn’t stop to pursue the girl. One characteristic about Blaise has always been that he would never give up until he got what he wanted. Of course, he was never denied of anything through his sneaky Slytherin ways. Perfect stereotype for a Slytherin, really.

Draco tucked into his dinner and was engaged in a particularly interesting gossip. Apparently, Slytherin’s previous Quidditch Captain, Marcus Flint, was interested in blokes. He had already graduated from Hogwarts and was active in his role as a Quidditch trainee. It shocked Draco for a moment. That slimy git was interested in blokes? He’d have thought Flint was the sort of person to hound after girls.

Millicent, it seemed, was not entirely surprised.

“What do you mean?” Draco questioned.

“Well, I mean, he seemed to love starting arguments with Wood over nothing. You’d start to wonder…” Millicent explained.

“Um, they were offending teams, Mills.” Blaise interjected.

“Well, _um_ ,” she mimicked Blaise, “then why is Flint dating Wood, Blaise?”

This further information shocked the whole group. Who’d have known? That the sworn enemies of Slytherin and Gryffindor Quidditch Captains would get together? Maybe it was there, Draco backtracked. They seemed to throw smug smirks at each other in the field for practice sometimes. And they _had_ always touched each other, lingering for a second too long. But they had reason for that. It was usually from a fight. Maybe the fight wasn’t genuine enough. Could it be it was all an excuse to touch more?

“That actually would explain a lot.” Pansy said out of nowhere.

“What would it explain, Pansy?”

“Oh, come on guys. Flint and Wood. Slytherin and Gryffindor. Apparent hate, yet they lusted for one another. It was just all teen angst.” She sighed in exasperation. “That’s so like Draco and sodding Potter!”

Draco’s eyes widened. He sputtered and looked around the table to find everyone nodding along. Even the traitor of a friend, Blaise. He placed his fork on the napkin before he gulped a large amount of pumpkin juice.

“No, it was nothing like Potter and I.”

“Draco, you were practically begging for his attention every flipping day. You aggravate him _just_ for his attention!” Pansy waved her hand around.

“It was rivalry! We were on opposite ends of the war! You know better than anyone, he was my enemy!” Draco defended himself.

“Hey, buddy, I’m just saying. You were awfully invested in making his life hell,” she shrugged.

Right, Draco wasn’t having any more of this. He rolled his eyes and continued eating. It’s useless arguing with Pansy. She’d twist every word he’d say, trying to defend himself. Very Slytherin. But not having the fact straight that Potter and he were just blind enemies made him turn a little sour. Well, at least they weren’t too venomous any longer.

Draco supposed he did have some unsolved tension between Potter. But it was a taut tension which drove both mad with seething anger. They were kids and knew nothing better. Hell, they were so stupid back then! Granted, Potter was much more stupid than he was, but still.

Draco was pulled back into a conversation about Potter’s love life. Why did it matter to the Slytherins? Draco thought that since this was the Golden boy, of course he’d have gossip. Pansy pulled a magazine from the insides of her school robes. She laid it in the middle for all to see and flipped the page, settling on a page.

There was Potter’s face, looking slightly awkward and all the bit uncomfortable. The title read:

_The boy who lived Twice, Our Saviour, spotted with a muggle boy._

Draco was, for the second time tonight, shocked. He sent a questioning look at Pansy, he couldn’t bother reading the long article. He spotted the word _Saviour_ and _Hero_ all too many times. It made him gag.

“Well, you see, Potter was spotted with a muggle boy.” She re-stated.

“No, I get that. I want to know what he was doing and such,” he rolled his eyes.

Pansy’s eyes glinted with pleasure. Draco hardly asked for gossip, but he was eager for this one.

“Alright, apparently our Golden boy was stalked by the media, as per usual. It turns out that the press had been pleased with their hard job of noting every move Potter made, because sure enough, they came with this story!” Pansy squeaked, “he was apparently in with the muggle, by in I meant that they were not just friends, if you catch my drift.”

“How’d you know it was something more than friendship?”

Pansy heaved a heavy sigh, rolling her eyes. She turned the page and showed a moving picture of Potter in the arms of some tall muggle. Potter looked happy being encased in the man’s arms. He was smiling before he was kissing. Draco shuddered. He didn’t want to see that image, not really. But he was rather fond of the smile that was placed there. What? Draco was fond of something that Potter did? Well, it was his thoughts, might as well admit it.

“Is he still with the muggle?” Draco asked.

“No, as it usually does between muggle and wizards, it ends with heartbreak. Potter had broken up with the boy, claiming he loved him, but it could never work. Potter was proper sad too. I think he really loved the boy.”

Draco let out a sigh of relief, which confused him. Then he felt a little sad for Potter. Of course, he’d fall in love with someone he can’t keep. Just like how all his relatives and most who he loved were gone from him. That was a tad dark for Draco, but he still thought of it.

“Any other incidents like this, Pansy?” Blaise asked her.

“Oh yeah, apparently Potter’s invested with females as well as males. He sure does get it easy, hey? Why’d you ask?”

“Well lads, I think I’ll change my course from that ditzy Ravenclaw for a hot piece of Gryffindor arse.” Blaise pronounced. He began to make another paper crane.

“Yeah, good luck with that,” Daphne snorted, “half of Hogwarts – no matter their gender – are lining up to proclaim their love for the moron.”

“I saw one of the interactions,” Draco inputted, “he’s a mess, I tell you. He practically told a fifth year he wanted to shag her, but he couldn’t because she was too young. Then he gaped like a fish, like he didn’t realise what he said before.”

“I’d like to see Potter get flustered like that.” Blaise stood and sent the crane over to where Potter was. Potter looked surprised at the crane and was even more surprised by the shower of colourful sparks. The crane didn’t explode however, it just landed gracefully, unravelled, at Potter’s thighs.

He seemed to be reading it before his ears go red. He looked up to see Blaise’s wink and he dropped his gaze again. Draco felt a flare of anger shoot through him. It was a little puzzling why he felt that way. He shrugged and rolled his eyes at Blaise.

“Man-whore.” Pansy stated.


	5. Inner Turmoil and Types

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hasn’t he done enough for the Wizarding world? Harry felt the sudden urge to smash a window. Destroy a piece of fine china. Maybe throw a table at the wall, hard. His control was beginning to fray. Sometimes, whenever he closes his eyes, he can feel the self-pity wallow him up and he hates it. What kind of weak man was he? No. For the first time in his life, he called to his boy who lived twice side and begged for it to stay. Stay long enough for him to calm.
> 
> Harry ran in to Zabini and Malfoy, but maybe Zabini wasn't really his type?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi-Ho!
> 
> I'm contemplating whether I should set a schedule for when I post a new chapter. Like every Saturday or so, but I'm so painstakingly unmotivated. Schoolwork piles up and I've half a mind to drop this project - but alas, I can't. I've too many unspoken ideas. Incoherent ideas too. Anyways, I'll try to stick to a schedule, but otherwise I'm just writing out of pleasure and, for some parts, stress relief.
> 
> This chapter has HOMOPHOBIC SLURS, so it'd be best for reading discretion!!
> 
> Thank you for taking the time to read my work,
> 
> Comments and Kudos are always welcomed and they encourage the heck out of me!

Harry spent the rest of his night along with Hermione and Ron. The trio were walking around corridors and reminisced about old past times. Times where things were both simple and chaotic. Times where Harry wouldn’t mind revisiting and times where he’d rather swallow hot lead than experiencing again.

Harry lifted a hand up to his scar, brushing at the faint reminder, and got a stifled cry of fear from Hermione. He realised just how bad it must look for him to be rubbing his scar just as he had during the war. He dropped his hand and put it on her shoulder.

“Hey, it’s okay, ‘Mione.” He soothed her, her eyes glistened and she stared intently into his eyes.

He can’t help but feel awful and sorry that his best friends had to go through what he had. He wanted to bury his faults and keep his friends safe. He wanted to return Hermione’s parents back to her. They wouldn’t have been memoryless and in Australia if it weren’t for him.

His eyes shifted to Ron’s. His were also a little glazed, a small apologetic smile on his lips. Harry couldn’t help but feel a new wave of awful and sorry wash over him. He didn’t mean for Fred to die. He didn’t mean to put the Weasley family in so much danger time after time. He didn’t know what he was doing.

Of course, it’s a fruitless job to ponder over mistakes that were already made. Harry knew how well it was to drown in grief and misery, and how pointless it was. Harry had to just own up to what he’d done. He’d face the consequences and help those who needs helping. Though, he highly doubts it. He can’t get away from the feeling of ending his journey.

Hasn’t he done enough for the Wizarding world? Harry felt the sudden urge to smash a window. Destroy a piece of fine china. Maybe throw a table at the wall, hard. His control was beginning to fray. Sometimes, whenever he closes his eyes, he can feel the self-pity wallow him up and he hates it. What kind of weak man was he? No. For the first time in his life, he called to his boy who lived twice side and begged for it to stay. Stay long enough for him to calm.

It was probably his stubbornness that kept him sane, but he’d like to think he wasn’t in control and it was his the “Hero” inside him who took over the reins. His Hero mustered all courage to pat a nearly hysteric Hermione. Keep her calm. Say soothing words of “It’s all over” and “We won’t have to go through that again.”. Undoubtedly, the boy who lived twice was as tired as a mule after days of trekking. But he shouldn’t – couldn’t – surrender to the light. Not just yet.

Hermione was calm enough to murmur out her tiny sorry before brushing Harry’s scar with her own fingers. Ron kept his hand around her waist and pulled her closer to him. Harry’s hand dropped and he looked up at Ron. The ginger’s eyes were clouded, but he gave Harry a distant warm smile. Harry returned the smile and hugged them both. Should something like the war Voldemort caused ever happened again, he’ll keep his friends, those who he loved, far, _far_ away from the harm.

He can’t have them go through that twice. Not at all.

Both Ron and Hermione parted with Harry after Harry had declared he’d wanted some time alone. He’s always been asking for times alone these days. Just him and mental encouragements – if you could ever call it that – and a deep breath to calm himself enough. He’d use that technique of letting another, not as vulnerable, side of him emerge to take over. Deep down, he knew it was himself, but Harry didn’t want to acknowledge the fact.

He wandered into the kitchens and saw Malfoy sitting with his pal, Zabini. They both looked over to Harry in shock. Oh Merlin, how he’d love for the boys to just leave him alone. He sputtered out a low apology for the intrusion and started to turn when Zabini’s voice rang out.

“Potter, stay. We’ve got something to show you.”

It was a rather commanding voice, but Harry was too shocked for anything as of the moment. He faced back over to the boys, his eyes were wide with a glaze of worry. This Slytherin git wanted to torment Harry, didn’t he? As if Zabini could read Harry’s thoughts, he rolled his eyes.

“I’m not going to hex you, Potter.” He smiled briefly, “though, I can’t say for Draco.”

Malfoy just shrugged his shoulders in dismissal and waved over to the empty space of the table. Harry’s always thought it’d be when hell froze over would Malfoy and Zabini be willing to have Harry in their company. This… this just seemed like some disturbing alternate universe.

“Am I going mad?” Harry caught himself wondering aloud. A flush crept up his neck to his cheeks, though it felt subtle enough to go by undetected.

Both Slytherins looked over at each other and laughed a little. Zabini grinned over at Harry and sauntered over to the boy. Zabini, Harry had to admit, was proper fit. The guy was tall and had deep chocolate skin. His eyes were hazel and almost glowed against his skin. Tall with haughty features, this Slytherin was as fine as you could get them in the dingy dungeon. The other rival could be his other friends, but they weren’t as striking as Zabini himself.

Harry wondered, a little incredulously, why on earth was he thinking of Zabini? This was a downright bizarre night, he must say. Harry closed the portrait door and leaned against it. He shoved his hands deep into his pockets before he drawled in the most nonchalant tone he could muster.

“What’re you guys doing here?”

“Hello to you too, Potter,” Malfoy chuckled.

Harry couldn’t help but roll his eyes. Zabini was still close to Harry, he shifted a little and tried to put some distance from himself and the attractive Slytherin. Attractive people are dangerous people. Harry couldn’t help but feel like a total sap by thinking of such things. He wasn’t scared of attractiveness itself, Voldemort had been a fair point for that. But there were too many good people – both physically or otherwise – who Harry had seen become dangerous beings.

“Right then, how’re you guys?” Harry couldn’t believe himself. The situation was weird enough, so might as well.

Apparently, the other males didn’t think it was too strange as Malfoy pulled a magazine out his bag and Zabini took Harry’s elbow and steered him to the table. He was pushed to sit down and he felt a sense of nostalgia. Fred and George once had done this. Fred would pull something interesting and potentially trouble worthy whilst George sat Harry down between both. He had to fight urges to drown in his sorrow for the twins.

The magazine that Malfoy had in his hands were obscured by his lingering hand. He shot a puzzled look up at Zabini and Malfoy. They both shared a grin over each other at Harry’s expression. This seemed to annoy Harry a little. Why were they making him sit and what were they going to show him?

That question was shortly answered by Malfoy, who lifted his hand and showed a picture of two figures encased in one another’s arms. It baffled Harry but his eyes caught the title. _What?_

He snatched the magazine so roughly, a page tore at the edges. The story, written by Skeeter, that bloody fuck up of a journalist, covered speculations about Harry’s little love life. He thought he’d been so well and careful. But it seems as if life was pointedly trying to make a joke out of it. He growled low in his throat.

“Whoa, simmer down, Golden boy.” Malfoy smirked at him.

Red washed over his eyes. This is it. They’ll spread the news, the wizarding world as well as his muggle world will shun him for life. He’ll have no safe space to go, let the homophobic slurs come. Let him feel the aggravated and disgusted stares drag through him. Let him hear more whispers, but now they’re tinged with repulse.

But they never came.

“Potter, we’re not like your uncivilised muggle world.” Malfoy spat.

“What? Why is he acting so defensively?” Zabini asked.

“In the muggle world, they shun homosexuals, Zabini. Sodding Potter here thinks we’re like them,” he added with a note of slight disdain.

“Over such a small thing?”

“Yeah. You should hear some of their slurs – fag, poofter, ring raider – you name it. My personal favourite is Harry Hoofter.” He joked in delight.

Harry rolled his eyes, “Alright, alright, so what’s the point of showing me this if you’re not going to torment me over it.” He pointedly ignored the “Harry Hoofter” remark.

“Right, so, Potter did you break up with this boy?” Zabini pointed over at the picture.

Harry’s tummy squeezed a little. He missed the boy in the photograph so much. He missed his soft blond hair, his tall and lean figure which rooted him to reality. He missed the grey eyes he had. He missed the pale yet rosy complexion of his lover. In fact, he was a striking resemblance to Malfoy. Wait a second, why was he thinking of Malfoy?

He glanced at Malfoy and back to the picture. It was too dark to really make out the features of the muggle boy, but Harry knew firsthand what he looked like. Certainly, looked too much like the blond boy that sat before him now.

“Yeah,” he croaked, “Yeah, we’re through.”

“Excellent.” Zabini grinned mischievously before fleeing from the kitchens.

Harry looked after him in puzzlement.

“He meant condolences but he’s too much of an idiot to remember, Potter,” Malfoy’s voice came from behind Harry. “Not all Slytherins are evil.”

 

\--

 

Potter looked a little hurt at Blaise’s departing words. But then again, Blaise is a massive dolt who cannot possibly go over to the extent of being a little mindful. He was just too excited at the confirmation of Potter’s boyfriend to be an ex now. The word boyfriend angers Malfoy a little, though he didn’t know why.

“He meant condolences but he’s too much of an idiot to remember, Potter,” He said, circling around Potter. “Not all Slytherins are evil.”

“No yeah, I get that.”

“You’re probably wondering why Zabini asked you to stay,” Draco stated.

Potter perked up, almost like a puppy. It was in no way cute, not even remotely. Potter would only make an unkempt and sloppy puppy with his hair. His hair which looked soft to the touch. No, Potter would just be an extremely loyal and shabby pup. Draco’s getting a little off the topic, he’ll address why Zabini wanted him.

“Blaise has fallen for you,” Draco said offhandedly, “whether it’s for your charms, looks or your title, I can’t say.”

“Like I have looks and charms,” Potter chuckled a little sardonically, “my title is all I have.”

He never knew Harry Potter was the condescending sod that he was. Although, it is true. Potter did not possess any obvious charms. He did well in the looks part, but like hell was Draco about to admit to that.

“So?”

“Sorry? So, what?”

“So, will you take his request?” Draco rolled his eyes. He didn’t know the reason, but his stomach clenched in anxiousness.

“Uh, I don’t think so.” Potter didn’t even bat an eye.

“Why not?”

“Look, Malfoy, I get that he’s your friend and I’m bent, but I happened to also have types.” Potter ran his hand through his raven hair, making it messier than it’d been. His pushed fringe showed his forehead, and a glimpse of the faint lightning scar, before it flopped back down. His round glasses were a little crooked. Draco had the urge to fix it.

The whole Harry Potter look wasn’t too put together. His tie was loosened, buttons un-buttoned, showing off his defined collarbones and the hollows of his throat. His sleeves were rolled up, something Draco could never do, due to his stark Dark Mark. It’d take quite some time to heal or fade.

“You have a type, Potter?” Draco smirked, amused.

The Gryffindor blushed a deep colour, colouring his neck and face rosy. He was worrying at his lips as if mentally cursing himself for something idiotic. Knowing Potter, he probably was. Being the heroic and impulsive Gryffindor, he is.

“Uh, yeah.” Potter said lamely.

“Well?” Draco prompted. He wanted to know Potter’s type for some baffling reason. He couldn’t give a flying fuck about his friend’s types, but somehow Potter intrigued him.

Potter blew an exasperated breath upwards, dislodging his fringe from his eyes. That was certainly not adorable. His green eyes went unfocused and he frowned a little. His mouth was pushed to form a little slanted pout. Draco knew this look from observing him back before the war. This was Potter’s thinking face. Whatever he was pondering about, Draco intended to get the full answer.

“I would say – based on what I’ve gravitated towards – that I like tall people.” Potter’s voice was cautious.

“Uh, I also seem to prefer blondes over any others.” His eyes darted towards Draco’s face and back down. His brows furrowed in confusion.

“What happened to the Weaslette?” Draco raised one eyebrow in question.

“Well, she wasn’t that much taller than me and she was ginger.” Potter chuckled a little.

“I can see that. What else? What else do you prefer over?”

“Well, I tend to lean to those with a snarky sense of humour. A little haughty and poncy – I know it baffles me too, Malfoy – and I like them a little demanding?”

Blonde, tall, snarky, haughty and poncy and a little demanding? If it wasn’t so ridiculous, then Draco would’ve thought that Potter was describing himself. That’s a little impossible, of course. No way would that happen. It was a little of bad news for Blaise. Though he would fill in the criteria for haughty, poncy and tall, he was in no way playfully snarky and blonde. Blaise is a little crude and a lot meaner. Things he said was never on the safe side.

“I can hear the heartbreak of Blaise right now, Potter.” He drawled.

“Haha, no, he won’t mind it. If he got to know me, then he knew how boring I am. I’m not too interesting, you see.” Potter explained with a simple wave of his hand.

The boy who lived twice? Boring? Hell, Harry sodding Potter got away with the Killing Curse, twice. As a baby and as a teenager. Imagining a 17-year-old Potter, walking over to his death, was a little nauseating and sad. He certainly was ready to give up his life.

“Potter, you’re delirious.”

“That I am,” he heard Potter mumble a little.

Draco went over to Potter. He reached out and patted the tangles of hair. If Potter was surprised, he did not show it. He only tensed in the slightest and relaxed a little. Why in the world was Draco petting Potter like some wounded animal, it didn’t even feel too bad for him.

Potter’s hair was really soft. He hadn’t expected it, but it was quite easy to run his fingers through the messy disarray. He’d have thought they were full of knots, but they were just unruly, giving the illusion of being dishevelled as it seemed.

Draco shifted his pat to Potter’s back and gave him a sideways smile. Potter gave a tight one of his own before he hopped up from where he sat and looked at his wrist. He snorted softly and took an apple, heading towards the exit of the kitchen.

“Coming to bed, Malfoy?”

Draco almost choked on his spit when he heard the incredulous suggestion to what Potter was implying. Heat filled his face. Merlin, was Potter out to give him a heart attack? Then with dumbfounded stupidity, he realised it was probably late and that the Gryffindor was suggesting going over to the dorms.

“Yeah.” He sputtered.

“What? Did you think of something naughty?” he sneered.

“Shut up, Potter.”

 

Draco really didn’t mind Potter.

Harry didn’t mind Malfoy either.

 

They were both equally, extremely confused and torn.


	6. Spur of events and blurred thoughts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malfoy’s grim lips softened a little. He put his robes over Harry and gave him a hand. His head was cocked to the side and had a fine eyebrow raised.  
> “Coming with me, Potter?”  
> “I wish,” Harry snorted light-heartedly.
> 
> Draco and Harry may just have a friendship pair blooming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to wait until next week to post this, but I just couldn't!
> 
> I'd like to throw any attempts of making a schedule out the window.  
> WARNING : DESCRIPTIONS AND DEPICTIONS OF VIOLENCE AND TORTURE
> 
> Leave a comment or a Kudos or both, thank you so much for taking the time to read my work!

_“The boy who lived,” Voldemort drawled on, “Comes to die.”_

_Harry knew what he had to do. It won’t be painful. It’s okay, just take deep breaths through your mouth. It’s fine. You’ll safe lots of lives from being lost tonight, Harry. You’ve taken too much, Harry. Why didn’t you comply to his wishes sooner, Harry? Why were you such an incompetent “hero”, Harry? You’ve let down the Weasleys. Putting them in grave danger time to time. Are you not satisfied with just your own life? Why must you take others to danger with you?_

_But the scenery had changed, he wasn’t in the Forbidden Forest anymore. He was in Malfoy Manor, suspended in mid-air. There were Death Eaters everywhere. They were all faceless figures clad in black billowing robes, yet he could sense the sneers and sadistic grins placed heavily on his body. Voldemort, at the head of the table, raised his wand and shouted._

_“Crucio!”_

_Pain. So much set his nerves alight. As if he had a hundred wooden splinters forced under his nails. Like he was being pounded by a sledgehammer, repeatedly. He was being skinned and carved out alive. He was in so much pain. He would do anything for the pain to stop. He wanted to die. He wanted to stop. Please make it stop. Please. Please. FUCK!_

 

\--

 

Draco was alerted by violent yells. He was pulled from his sleep to find himself venturing to the pained shouts for help. He noticed at the back of his head that Potter’s bed was empty and that his dorm mates were just starting to stir.

He banged the dorm room open and went down to the common rooms. There he saw Potter’s body lay twisted on the cold stone floor. Draco felt a flicker of panic run through him. He went over to the body and tried to calm him down.

“Shh, shh, Potter. Potter, it’s okay, you’re safe.” Draco stretched his arms out and patted the dark curls, slick with sweat.

“Kill me! _Please!_ ” Potter begged, his eyelids jerked open.

Draco felt a wave of tears prick at his eyes. He tried his best. Pulling the panicked boy close to his own body. One arm wrapped around his shoulders, the other stroking his hair. Potter’s head was leaned over Draco’s heart and he dropped his head to rest at the Gryffindor’s.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” He kept murmuring.

Soon, the shouts died to little whimpers. It sent a rush of pity through Draco. And by the time Potter was calm enough to slow his heartbeat, the whole common room was filled with students. Some were staring shocked at the bizarre sight of an ex Death Eater comforting the Chosen One. Draco had half a mind to snap at them, but he was tired. He was also surprised that the Weasel didn’t do anything to stop Draco from soothing the boy who lived twice. Instead he crouched down in front of Draco and began to pat Potter’s back. Granger was in the same posture as the Weasel.

“Harry, mate.” Ron began softly.

Potter’s eyes were drawn to the Ginger and he came over to hug his best mate. Draco felt a little stung and lonely by the missing heat that were enclosed in his arms. But Weasel seemed to be a great calming method.

“Ron, Ron, I thought he was back,” Potter’s voice croaked. “I thought- I thought…”

“It’s okay. He’s gone, he’s gone I promise you.” Weasley’s voice was strained with emotion, “you won’t have to go through that again. You’re safe.”

Potter’s arms let go of the Weasel and he absentmindedly stroked his scar. He could hear little gasps at his back. Potter’s stare came upon the people surrounding him. He smiled emptily and dismissed the act as a habit. That he was fine, that it was just a nightmare.

“Harry, it’s fine.” Granger’s voice was smooth and soothing. Draco wished his voice had been like that. The impact it had on Potter was immense.

Potter wrapped his arms around the bushy haired girl and nestled his face into her neck. Weasley joined in wrapping his arms around the both smaller pair. A huddle of friends, trying to comfort each other from the after effects of the war. Potter had good friends.

“I was at the Manor, I was back…” Draco could hear Potter whisper frantically into the huddle. He strained to hear more but the huddle was far too intimate for an outsider like him.

Draco hesitantly began to turn back towards the dorms. He wanted to know what Potter was dreaming to get him in such a panic. To beg to be killed. To talk about a manor. Draco’s stomach clenched, he had a feeling he knew which manor it was. He took a step away before his elbow was held back.

“Malfoy, thank you.” Potter’s voice held such a reverent tone, it made Draco’s heart spike a little.

“It was nothing, Potter,” Draco’s voice faltered a little, but he’d like to think it was diminutive enough.

Weasley nodded and Granger smiled tightly at him. Draco did the smallest of a bow and went back to his dorms and slid under his covers. He made it his mission to uncover what had made Potter gripe in a state of horror in his sleep. It involved a manor, and he was pretty sure which manor it was. If Potter was indeed in that manor – Draco winced at the thought.

He won’t deny, he had nightmares of his own, but they never made him beg to be killed. He could remember when he almost did in the flames. He had recurring ones of those, but apart from that, he was rather peaceful in his sleep. The only peace time he’s had in a while, he thought.

Unconsciousness began to brink at the edges of his brain. Merlin, tonight was an eventful night that went by with a blur. First, talking to Potter about his taste in men, then his eventful night. Potter said that he was boring, Draco would beg to differ. The Golden boy was as interesting as he comes.

 

\--

 

Ron and Hermione sat opposite of Harry on his bed. Harry’s bed was neatly made as he had not touched it in a long while. The ginger and brunette opposite him were looking at Harry concerned, yet anticipating. He sighed and looked around the dorms. Everybody seemed to be sleeping. Still, he closed the curtains around his bed and used the privacy charm around them.

“What did you dream of?” Hermione got straight to inquiries.

Harry rubbed his hand along his jaw and pushed his fringe back. He huffed out a large breath and slouched down.

“I was back, in the Manor and I relived the moments I had with Bellatrix.” Ron’s eyes flashed with fear. He reached out to grab Harry’s shoulder.

“You okay, mate?”

Harry nodded and shrugged the hand off. He wasn’t lying. He was okay, more okay that he’s been in a while. Usually it takes longer to calm and to snap out of the dream, but Malfoy was there to help him calm down and end the vivid memory of torture in the chambers prematurely. The name Malfoy was a little bitter in his mind and he inwardly cringed. No, it wasn’t Draco Malfoy who did this to him. It’s just a name, just like Voldemort. Just a name.

“Harry we’re here for you. I hope you know that.” Hermione spoke so soothingly, he was thankful for her tone. It acted like a calming draught to him. Like a mother’s concern. Not that he would know too much about the matter.

“Thanks guys, I know.” His smile was small but they held an overwhelming amount of emotion.

After walking Hermione back to her dorms, Harry slipped inside of his bed. He felt a little safer in the confines of the small space he was given. He’s severely claustrophobic due to some childhood traumas, but he had never been as grateful for the suffocating fear than he had been in a while. In his head, he theorised that maybe if he were to face something else which he feared, it may cancel out his previous fears.

Harry was content with his answer and shifted to the most silent sleep he’s ever had. In his dream, he dreamt of a tall and lean pale figure. The figure adorned a halo of brightly shining hair. When the figure turned, he caught the spark of grey eyes and a familiar smirk.

Harry had a feeling he knew who it was, but he never questioned it. The face felt so familiar, yet it was featureless. He’s resorted into keeping the white figure clad in green robes as his angel. His personal angel to guard him from his dreams.

 

\--

 

The next morning, Harry was ambushed by particularly curious seventh years who had heard his story. He found several people come up to him with tears marking their cheeks. They plead for confirmation. It was the same questions all the time – Was Voldemort dead?

And every time, he had to say the same answers. He was far too tired to comfort others, but he still did it. His patience remained until he got to a particularly sour conversation with a smart-ass Ravenclaw.

“Are you turning into _Him_ , Potter?” The sandy haired girl imposed on him, “Or are you doing this for the attention? Bet you love it, don’t you?”

“You think that a dream where you relive being tortured is pleasant?” he spat in disgust for the girl. “For a Ravenclaw, you’re painstakingly dim. Now get out of my sight.”

He strode long and fast into an abandoned classroom. He kicked the door forcefully and seethed with rage. Running his hands through his hair, yanking at his scalp, he could feel his sanity slipping. How long? The war is over but why was he still trapped in it?

He could hear the Ravenclaw bitch saying those words in his head. He did not die twice for such ungratefulness. He barked a crazed laugh at his thought. That’s right, he died twice for the Wizarding world and did everything he was asked of. Because he thought it was the right thing to do.

He frantically looked around the classroom and picked up the closest chair to him. He swung the chair over his head and sent it crashing through the room. It shattered other furniture on the way. It made him feel a little relieved.

But soon there was tightness gripping at his chest. He could hear screams and moans. He heard sparks of spells being thrown around. It was chaos. He felt heat of flames. Harry’s hands got to a desk and he threw it across with the chair. His breathing was ragged and he let a sob pass through his lips.

He was startled by a low whistle from the doorway. It was Malfoy.

“I’m fine, I’m in control.” Harry put his trembling hands at his sides.

“Uh-huh, Potter, I just saw you throw a desk across the room.” Malfoy’s gaze went to the pile of debris left by Harry. “and I think you broke more before I came across as well.”

Harry closed his eyes and breathed slowly through his mouth. The tightness in his throat was loosening. That’s always a good sign for him. Adrenaline and misperception dissipated. Then he felt the jolt of pain through his left shoulder. He groaned a little at the movement and turned to grab his bag.

Malfoy also gasped at seeing his back. He ordered Harry to stay seated and brought his wand along his shoulder.

“I’m going to need you to discard your shirt.”

“Making me strip in a classroom, Malfoy? Sneaky Slytherins,” Harry joked.

Malfoy rolled his eyes and waved his wand. Harry’s shirt and sweater and vanished into thin air, leaving him bare and cold. This was a dungeon classroom, it was colder here than anywhere else.

The blonde rolled up his sleeves and frowned in fury.

“Potter, what happened with your back? Why are there…” His voice trailed off.

Harry shrugged, “Just Bellatrix having her fun, I s’pose. Why? Did she leave me more messages?”

“More?” Malfoy’s voice was tight.

“She’s always been a fan of those. Take ‘Mione. She carved ‘Mudblood’ into her. I couldn’t see her being so intently tortured.” Harry’s voice rose in panic.

“So, you took her place.” It was a statement, not a question.

“What did they do to you at the Manor?” Malfoy’s voice was low and contained. Harry wasn’t too fooled. He knew how to detect subtle hints at people’s voices and he could hear a strain of worry.

“Nothing too special. Just the usual of getting whipped, splinched, sometimes – if I was lucky enough – she’d be content with torturing me through magic ways.” He shuddered. If he hadn’t magic, it would be a long process to heal. He gulped.

Malfoy’s eyes were horrified and it only began to shine when he saw a scar over Harry’s left forearm. It was a jagged line followed by more winding jagged lines over the straight one. Quite a distasteful Dark Mark, really. It would’ve been better if Bellatrix had refined on her carving skin, Harry thought a little darkly.

“I’m so sorry,” Malfoy’s words were all but a whimper.

“Hey, it happens in war.” Harry attempted to soothe the emotional blonde. “It isn’t your fault.”

Malfoy sniffed a little, before continuing healing Harry’s self-inflicted wounds. He could still see the marks where Bellatrix had her fun making little flowers in Harry’s skin. They were etched into his skin. Sometimes, he could still feel the sting of the knife as it bore into his skin. Bellatrix liked to go over her doodles on Harry’s skin, saying that they weren’t deep enough.

“It might happen in war, Potter, but you were just a stupid teenager.”

“War doesn’t make exceptions for those heavily involved in it, Malfoy.” Harry chuckled low.

Malfoy shifted to better assess any other damages. He could see Malfoy’s mouth pucker into a little pout. His jaw was taut with unfathomable worry and his hand movements were precise, just brushing over each damage like a feather.

“You shouldn’t joke about your situation.” Malfoy softly breathed.

“No, I’m-“Harry struggled with words, “I’m f-“

“Potter, stop saying you’re fine, you massive sodden rag. Tell me the full story someday, yeah?”

Harry didn’t know what to make of this, but Malfoy didn’t seem too dangerous. What would he gain from a torture story from Harry, anyways? It wasn’t new intel. So, Harry shrugged and nodded in consent.

Malfoy’s grim lips softened a little. He put his robes over Harry and gave him a hand. His head was cocked to the side and had a fine eyebrow raised.

“Coming with me, Potter?”

“I wish,” Harry snorted light-heartedly.

Malfoy looked a little flustered and he ruffled Harry’s hair. They both went back to the dorms for Harry to change into a shirt and they went out to the Quidditch pitch with their brooms.

 

For the first time in forever, both Harry and Draco felt free from all their worries.


	7. Love potions and their dangers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry wanted to gag, vomit and choke all at once. But he was rendered immobile and could not do a single damn thing. So, when Zabini pulled a familiar pink vial out his robes, it made Harry panic. He knew those pink perfume-like bottles from Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes. It was a love potion. Not the Amortentia they brewed the day earlier, this was a product of the twin’s line. Just George, now. His mind had always been unhelpful in the direst of times.
> 
> After brewing Amortentia, Harry and Draco were feeling a little dejected at their ineffectiveness. But Harry was ambushed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right, so I had a wild idea to progress the boy's relationship a bit further.
> 
> WARNING : NON-CON ATTEMPTS OF SEXUAL ACTS
> 
> I can't write smut for my life, so I had to do extensive re-write of scenarios.  
> It's a bit different to what I have always written, but it's a step out my comfort zone.  
> Let me know your thoughts, drop a comment or a kudos, or do both!
> 
> Thank you for taking the time to read my sloppy work, it really makes me happy!

_Draco was standing in a misty clearance. It was enchantingly beautiful, surrounded by blue and purple hues. The fog parted to show a boy in a white shirt. Potter was in his dreams. He was smiling gracefully at Draco. His emerald green eyes were bright and full of life. Potter took a step closer to Draco, and for a dazzling moment, Draco had felt trapped. Potter was like a Veela, drawing him in closer and closer into the thick fog and into the glassy lake._

_Potter unbuttoned his white shirt. He turned around before Draco could see the exposed chest. Potter’s eyes glinted at Draco, a tug pulled on Draco’s abdomen. Harry. It was his Harry. And his alone to claim. Harry’s shirt was shrugged leaving a naked and partially wet tanned boy in his wake. Harry tugged on his bottom lip and disappeared into the waters._

_Draco followed suit, emerging into the glassy lake in search for his Harry. He saw the messy raven hair float around and met his green eyes. Only, they were dulled. And painfully lifeless. Harry’s body was floating on its own. He heard the cackles of the Dark Lord, announcing the death of the boy who lived. Fear and anguish gripped his body. Potter…_

 

Draco was awakened to a warm hand repeatedly smoothing through his hair. It soothed him from the terrible dream he’d had. That was the second time he dreamt about Potter being dead. But it took a very suggestive approach to it. Draco couldn’t ponder at the dream for long, however, he was busy being shocked by his soother.

It was Potter. He looked concerned, but it was masked by a warm glow that radiated to Draco. He hadn’t realised it, but he was gripping Potter’s hand. The boy’s free hand began to pet away his wet fringe from his forehead. Draco had never felt so touched in all his life.

“Hey, you okay?” Potter’s voice was a quite lull.

Draco tried to get his minds all sorted, he attempted to slow his heart down. As he began to sit up, Potter pushed him back down. His eyebrows were knitted together and he started to murmur spells or incantations. It sounded tilted and sweet. Draco’s heavy mind almost snapped. Merlin, Potter was _singing_ to him.

He didn’t recognise the song, but it was low and melodic. The song mentioned of a girl and her inability to save herself from her lover. It was quite dark and disturbing. But having it pass Potter’s lips almost made it sound like a lullaby. Draco’s mind was dragging with sleep, yet again.

He felt the pull of Potter’s hands retreating. He didn’t want Potter to leave. Not yet. He could only imagine the image of a beautiful but dead Potter. He was supposed to be the boy who lived. Not the boy who died. Draco, being a little selfish, held onto Potter.

“Don’t go, please,” Draco had half expected for Potter to leave him anyways, but no.

“I’ll be right here, Malfoy.” The gentle words made Draco elated with happiness.

Draco felt somewhere in his mind, that he really like Potter.

 

Morning came with a harsh light. Draco grumbled. Why were his curtains opened? Why was the sun so bright? He sat up and rubbed at his face. Last night, he had the wildest dreams. From a naked Potter to a Potter staying up beside him, lulling him to sleep quite literally. He shifted and felt something warm next to him.

Draco was wrong. Last night wasn’t a dream, well, not the second half. Because here was Potter. He was sitting on the stone-cold floor, his arm on the bed, pillowing his head. His glasses were set aside. His other hand was in Draco’s lap. He felt his heart squeeze at the sight.

Stroking the raven hair back, Draco reached down to touch his cheek. Potter was cold. Oh, bloody hell, he’s been sitting out in the cold for Draco. He couldn’t help but feel tingly from the fact, but now Potter was cold.

Draco hopped from the bed and lifted Potter up with one scoop. This boy was so light that he needn’t cast a lightening charm. He walked over opposite his own bed, where Harry’s was located. How convenient was it to have his bed right opposite each other’s?

He carefully laid the freezing body down to the bed, pulling the covers over Potter’s body. Draco could see the prominent fall and rise of his breathing. It calmed him. Draco knew it was time for breakfast, but he couldn’t take his eyes over the boy in the bed.

Potter’s tanned skin was a perfect bronze framed with a few freckles on the tips of his nose. His bed-hair seemed wilder than his usual hair. It was oddly endearing to Draco. His lips were parted. It looked soft and sweet.

Draco Malfoy has never been one to take advantage of unconscious people. Not even if he was pissed himself. It was part of his morals. Yet, Potter looked so vulnerable under his gaze. Potter had comforted him, staying true to his word and held his hand through the night.

It made Draco feel a warm and fuzzy clench around his chest. The thought of Potter tending and giving attention to Draco is a desirable thought. He wanted to run his hands through Potter’s hair. Badly. He was just hesitating when he reasoned: There was nobody in the dorm and Potter was sleeping.

Nobody would witness anything. It’s a perfect situation for Draco. He let his hands run through the raven hair. Softer than any other hairs he’s felt, but maybe Draco’s was better. His hands trailed down to Potter’s faint scar. The little ridge and budge was still there.

His fingers went further down to stroke over his closed eyelid, the bridge of his nose. His knuckles brushed over Potter’s cheeks and let his index finger drag down to Potter’s pink lips. Draco licked his own lips while his finger stroked Potter’s bottom lips.

A wild impulse surged through him and he was bent. Both figuratively and physically. His body was bent over as he brushed his own lips to the sleeping beauty’s. It was a small touch that sent his nerves through thousands of electric shocks.

Draco whipped backwards. Why on earth did he do that? Potter was unconscious for goodness sake! He should at least wait until… No, the more pressing question was – why did he kiss Potter? Stumbling back and into the bathrooms, he started to harness his ragged breathing. Massive git. Potter must’ve laid an incantation on him. He still couldn’t shake off the feeling of having ran from England to Australia.

 

It was lunchtime, Draco was still buzzed from the brush of Potter’s lips. It didn’t calm him knowing he had Potions next and was seated with the object of his desire. _No_ , Draco stopped himself, _it was just a mere confusion on my part_. Being stuck with boys all the time, maybe it was time for a quick shag with someone, anyone. _Potter would be a good selection_ , his mind unhelpfully filled.

He got on with his lunch, hearing the chatter around him buzz at his ears. When he was younger, he’d hated the chatters around him. It was often filled with students having a goss about one thing or another. Quite childish. But, Draco couldn’t help but think that young him was extremely petty. Not that he’d admit it out loud.

Sixth year was probably his breaking point around the stupid and nonchalant chatters of his schoolmates. He was so stretched with his stress and worry on taking the Dark Mark, fixing the Vanishing Cabinet, letting Death Eaters in, forced to kill his Headmaster and witnessing the havoc before his eyes. He’d been a catalyst to the process of war.

He’d also had a life debt to Potter. Saving him from the fire and speaking at his trials. Hell, he owed Potter for having the courage to face the blasted Dark Lord from enslaving the Wizarding world. For all he cared, he had forgiven Potter for trying to kill him in the boy’s lavatory. Draco would have to admit, he didn’t expect the Saint Potty to be so violent. He seemed helplessly naïve always. A true Gryffindor.

But then again, he also saw Potter back in fourth year, drenched in dirt and blood, arms wrapped around the sickly pale body of Diggory, alerting of the Dark Lord’s return. How the boy survived, he never knew. Harry Potter was the Chosen One. Of course, he’d survive. He had to. Poor Potty, really. Having to go through so much since he was ejected into the world.

His peers stood and began to drawl to their respective classes. He harnessed his bag and went to Potions. As every other Potions lesson, he’d sit slouched on his seat. He could still remember the sight of a sleeping Potter, head on the table and one fist clenched. Fretful dreams it seems.

Surprisingly, Potter came on time. He was freshened up and making his way to Draco. Catching his eye, the other boy flushed a little. It was a slightly arousing sight, but Draco quashed down any feelings. The contact felt almost intimate. He had to break it before anything else happened.

“How are you doing, Malfoy?” Potter sat and took out his Potions textbook.

“Concerned, Potter? As expected from our _Saviour_.” Draco drawled. It felt right to tease the Chosen One.

“Yep,” he said with a pop, “It gets the whole ‘Hero’ fiasco going.”

Draco was stunned for a second before he let out a bark of laughter.

“Who knew you were a jokester?” he quipped.

“Malfoy, my life is a joke. If only you knew sooner.”

“Please, Potter. I think I know plenty.” Draco scoffed.

“Not about my wit, apparently.” Potter flashed him a smile, “One of my many charms.”

“I’d recall you having no charms.” Draco leaned back into his seat.

Before Potter could reply, the doors were opened to admit Professor Slughorn. Slughorn was looking more hunched and aged from the war. Of course, the Potions teacher didn’t take a liking to Draco, as he had been in liege with the Dark Lord. It didn’t stop Slughorn from admiring Draco’s skill in the art.

The groomed man took his place behind his desk and, with a flick of his wand, set out instructions for today’s practical.

“Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. Today we shall be brewing a powerful love potion.” He stood over a closed cauldron and lifted the lid. “ _Amortentia_.”

The class erupted in quiet chatter, some students were making sheepish looks at others. A bundle of girls whispered furiously, glanced at Draco’s table and giggled like mad. Draco would’ve thought that the stares were for him, but no. They were all directed for the, one and only, Golden boy.

Potter seemed oblivious however, and only looked confused. His hand shot up in the air like his friend, Granger, who was an insufferable swot.

“Ah, yes, Mr. Potter?” Slughorn’s eyes twinkled at Potter.

“Sir, I believe we’ve covered this in sixth year.”

“Quite so, my boy! But I have not covered the topic with our respectful Seventh years due to… certain setbacks.”

Draco scoffed quietly. _Certain setbacks, my arse._

“Right. Sorry, sir.”

“It’s quite alright. I expect you to have brewed the Amortentia perfectly then, Mr. Potter. As goes for the rest of the Eighth years.”

Potter, and the rest of the Eighth years, drew a collective groan. He cursed at himself for having said anything. Draco thought it was a very amusing sight to see. Having excelled at Potions, he would have no doubt his potions work out well for him. The rest of his year wasn’t so confident, save aside Granger, who looked almost eager.

He would have to admit. It did intrigue Draco to smell a scent which he would think was the most attractive. He smelt the damp air of the woods and treacle tarts in sixth year, but he gave it no thoughts. Not when he was on a mission to let in Death Eaters and save both his parents and himself.

Potter set off to gather ingredients and Draco set off to gather up equipment. It’s always been like this. Potter and Draco, as astounding as it may be, turned out to be great partners and could cooperate. Whereas Draco’s previous Potions partners were intolerable and could not work in partnership.

“Right, so, I wasn’t actually successful in brewing the Amortentia back in sixth year myself, I had Hermione help me. So, if you could…?” his question trailed off.

“What would I get in return?” Draco joked.

Potter rolled his eyes and looked at him pointedly, his eyes were narrowed a little.

“I’d treat you for a drink, how’s that sound?”

“Sure thing, Potter.” Draco sneered.

 

Soon they were brewing their potions, with Draco giving Potter excessive amounts of tips and help.

“Merlin, Potter, I knew you said Granger helped you, but to what extent?”

“Uh, almost the whole potion brewing,” he flushed in embarrassment.

“Of course.” Draco rolled his eyes.

He ordered Potter to stir fifteen times counter-clockwise and let it simmer for a minute before stirring it the clockwise, once. Potter followed the instructions easily, but he was a little hasty. Ordering Potter, yet again, to slow down, he put his own potion to simmer.

“Malfoy, could you tone it down with your cologne next time? You reek.” Potter scowled.

“Could say the same about you,” Draco snapped, “do you rub yourself with grass daily?”

Potter ignored that and went tending to his potion.

“Do you think I’m brewing this wrong?” He voiced his concerns.

“Knowing you, you most likely did.” Draco insulted.

Potter groaned and went over to Slughorn, asking if he could help as he had problems concerning brewing. They went over to their workstations and Slughorn had his head bent over the cauldron.

“No, no, Mr. Potter. I believe you brewed it correctly.”

“Sir, you don’t understand. I’m supposed to smell that I find most attractive, am I not?” Potter argued.

“Hmm. Do you smell anything… defining?”

“Well, I’ve only been smelling sweets and… something citrusy. It isn’t lemons or limes or oranges. I can’t quite place it. But those smells belong to Malfoy sir. I won’t doubt that it would be his cologne or aftershave or something overpowering.”

Draco pouted and rolled his eyes at Potter. Potty was probably only jealous because he smelt better.

“Well, Harry, my boy, you might just have to ponder over why you’re smelling certain things.” Slughorn clapped Potter on his back. He made several students smell the potion and tell him different things about the smells.

“I don’t understand,” Potter frowned at his potion as Slughorn went over to other students.

“If you had listened to what I said,”

“I did!” Potter exclaimed in exasperation.

Draco went back to his potion. Potter might not be the only one with his Potions problem as Draco couldn’t smell anything out of the usual. It was just Potter’s smell, really. Just little whiffs of grass, something cool and something sweet, Draco suspected it was treacle tarts, though he can’t be too sure.

“Right, I’m going to ask Hermione.” Potter set off to Granger’s and the Weasel’s table. His head was bent over the bushy-haired girl’s cauldron before he scowled in confusion.

Granger looked at Draco in astonishment and back to her cauldron. Something seemed to amuse her now. She patted Potter and smiled knowingly. Potter only glared at her before he sulked back to Draco.

“What did she say?” Draco was interested, despite himself.

“She said something vague, just like Slughorn, it didn’t help me,” Potter began to pack up his books and ingredients.

“If it’s any consolation, mine also seems to be defective. Maybe I relayed false instructions to you?”

“But Slughorn said the contrary, it’s perfectly brewed.” Potter sighed.

Draco just shrugged. Disappointment settled as his potion had not worked, even though he spent a meticulous amount of care for it. He doubted that he made mistakes, but his potion gave him nothing to indicate a scent which he found attractive. It was just the usual Potter.

Both boys bottled up their Amortentia into a vial for further analysis.

 

\--

 

Harry sat in the library with his vial of Amortentia and a blank parchment in front of him. Hermione was off to grab books off the shelves and when she came back, she saw Harry with still nothing on his parchment.

“Harry, you need to write your reflections.”

“But Hermione,” he whined, “I’m fairly sure it doesn’t work.”

“Then write out why it didn’t work.” Hermione groaned and set down an enormous pile of books.

“How? It even looks like how it’s supposed to be!” his voice rose, earning him a stern shush.

“Here, give me your vial.” Hermione snatched his Amortentia and uncorked it.

She gave a deep sniff and hummed appreciatively. A slight tinge of red peppered her cheeks. As she corked it back, she gave a little frown. Her hand fiddled with the bottom of the vial and tipped her head to the side.

“Why? What is it? Did I brew it wrongly?”

“No, Harry, the opposite. I was able to smell the scent which I liked most.” Hermione gave it back to Harry and scrunched her nose.

Harry opened the vial and breathed the potion. Again, it gave off the same smells sweetness with citrus. It disconcerted him as this was Malfoy’s smell. But a quick scan in the library proved Malfoy to not be anywhere near him. He shrugged the feeling and corked the vial, writing on reasons why it did not work.

Reason one being, he couldn’t smell anything out of the ordinary.

 

By dinnertime, Hermione and Ron were absent from the dinner table. Harry had asked others where they were. Nobody gave him a straight answer, it wasn’t until Dean gave him a knowing wink, that Harry’s made the connection and dropped the subject. _Lovebirds_ , he thought with no venom.

Once again, he felt tightness around his chest, almost like a routine. He’d eat his dinner, dismiss himself early, go back into the kitchens to pack a few treacle tarts – his favourite type of tarts – and head off to the Astronomy Tower for some time to gather up moral encouragements.

They consisted of reasons why to keep going on his life, methods on how he would achieve that and what he’d do should he fall into a slump. Harry had never been one to give up, but he’d been dragging out his act for far too long that it wore down on him.

His trip, however, was disturbed by a very pissed looking Zabini. Harry had avoided Zabini since his little message with the crane. His note was very suggestive and it made him slightly uncomfortable. Of course, he was flattered to be called a ‘ _Handsome devil with a great ass_ ’, but as if he’d admit to that.

“Potter,” Zabini growled.

Harry backed a few steps away, his right hand on his wand. Zabini looked a little out of sorts, fit as ever, but there was an anger in his eyes. Harry knew how to read certain emotions. And this… this seemed minutely predatory.

“Oh, why are you backing away, sweet Saviour?” Zabini’s voice took to a sickeningly sweet tone.

Minutely predatory just levelled up to downright voracious. Harry’s grip tightened on his wand. He drilled himself into defence mode, not wanting to hurt too badly. _Like Malfoy_ , he faltered at the thought. A quick stun should suffice.

But he underestimated how fast Zabini was. As soon as Harry had his wand out, Zabini disarmed Harry and put a full body-bind on him. His arms and legs snapped together, falling to the hard-stone floor, stiff as a board. Try as he might, his body was trapped and unable to move. It felt like the Astronomy Tower all over again.

“ _Harry_ ,” Zabini crooned, “How I’ve longed for you.”

Harry wanted to gag, vomit and choke all at once. But he was rendered immobile and could not do a single damn thing. So, when Zabini pulled a familiar pink vial out his robes, it made Harry panic. He knew those pink perfume-like bottles from Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes. It was a love potion. Not the Amortentia they brewed the day earlier, this was a product of the twin’s line. _Just George, now_. His mind had always been unhelpful in the direst of times.

“You’ll drink this, won’t you?” Zabini held the vial over his fallen body.

Harry’s eyes widened and snapped from Zabini’s perfectly carved face to the vial repeatedly. No, this cannot be happening. He saw what Romilda Vane’s work had done to Ron. She smuggled the same love potion over inside of chocolates.

However, Harry was frozen. Even his mouth cannot be prised open using this curse. Zabini would have to release his hold on the spell. Harry had a plan in formulating in his mind. The second he was set free from the curse, he’d strangle Zabini. Not to death, just enough to set Zabini unconscious. A dark turn, Harry would have to say, but a path he’d be willing to take.

Zabini must’ve read his mind, because he did not set the curse free. He only smirked smugly and drew the contents of the potion with his wand. Then, unexpectedly, the potion was set in Harry’s throat by magic. Harry could feel it cutting off his air and was forced to swallow it.

The effects were almost instantaneous. Harry began to see Zabini in a new light. He was like an angel. Something bubbled in his stomach, all yearning for the dark boy. He wanted him one way or another. The desire to be next to the man was as strong as his desire to go jump off a building.

Harry could move now. His limbs were released of the binds and he shot up to wrap his arms around his obsession. To _feel_ Zabini in his arms sent waves of lust through him. Zabini smirked in triumph – over what, Harry didn’t care – and _Blaise_ smashed his lips on Harry’s.

Harry felt Blaise’s tongue sweep at his bottom lip, demanding for an entrance. Harry happily obliged. He would do anything for Blaise. He felt high off the kiss and something tugged at his brain. He felt hazy and elated. Like he was on air.

Blaise pushed Harry against a wall and began to cup Harry’s butt. Squeezing and kneading in the process. Harry’s hands travelled up Blaise’s back, feeling the broad shoulders encase him. Blaise took no further time as he turned Harry around and yanked his pants down.

Harry couldn’t think, he was oddly flushed and his mind spiralled everywhere, but always redirecting to the thought of Blaise Zabini. He felt a prod of a finger at his bum hole. Somewhere in his mind, he was yelling to stop Zabini from the act, but it was trampled by complete and utter trust for the boy’s touch.

“Look at you, panting like a bitch,” Zabini’s voice was rough and ragged.

He kissed and bit Harry’s neck, down to his shoulders and coming back up again. It sent a tremor through his spine. He loved Zabini, he really did. There were no other ways he could explain it; his world was shifted.

“Suck me, Potter,” Zabini ordered.

Harry turned and dropped to his knees. He fumbled with the buckles of Blaise’s belt. After clumsily opening his buckles, he took the zip between his teeth and pulled it down. There was a low and guttural moan which sent shivers through Harry.

He released Zabini’s cock and took a tentative lick. Hands flew at his hair and began tugging. Then, catching Harry by surprise, Zabini forced Harry to take him all in one go. It made Harry tear up. There was a roar of anger.

“Zabini! What the hell do you think you’re doing!”

Harry was pulled away by an invisible force. He was dazed and couldn’t think straight. He could clearly see the scene unveiling before him, but he was so hopelessly lost all the same.

There was a tall man with a head of white-blonde hair, looking at the beautiful Zabini and to the pink vial on the ground. It made the blonde snap and send a red spark at the Slytherin before turning to a half-naked Harry.

 “ _Incarcerous!_ ” It was Malfoy.

Harry was tied up. The ropes dug at his legs and wrists. Every time he twisted, it dug even further, now positioned at his hips, his waist, his chest. The rope seemed to be bound everywhere at Harry’s body. Before he could react, he saw Malfoy bent over his body.

 “Come on, Potter,” Malfoy tapped his wand on Harry and carried him off.

Harry felt himself slipping into a state of unconsciousness.


	8. Shocked and winded

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry supposed he could always keep people next to him and avoid Zabini altogether. He mused, maybe, he’d just get Malfoy to protect him like he had that night. All his regards and vehement thank you went to the blonde angel. He had to tell Malfoy he really was thankful. Give him a lil’ peck, Potter. Harry snorted at his own thoughts. Like hell he’d do that after what happened with Zabini.
> 
> Harry was lulled into sleep on the tree, without the help of Dreamless Sleep and was blessed with the images of the blonde angel that kept his nightmares at bay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's coming to that time of the term where I have plenty of assessment pieces to work on and hand in, so I thought might as well hand in this chapter early and maybe another one before I am gone on a temporary leave (I will miss writing!)
> 
> Thank you so much to have been a part of my journey in writing this piece, I will update once I've gotten the major bull out of the way.
> 
> Leave a comment about your thoughts on this chapter or a kudos, or both!

Harry was awake in the dark of the night. He was in the infirmary and saw a bottle of potion. He suspected it to be the antidote for the Love Potion. The rush of relief and gratefulness washed over him as it indicated he wouldn’t have to suffer for too long.

Harry could remember the events of his encounter with Zabini. Of course, Harry had experienced something of the same before. Love Potions, claims of his soulmate, marriage proposals – you name it. But to have somebody attack him in the castle grounds, which he thought to be safe, had shook him to the bone.

He could distinctly remember having the pleasure and want from the dark skinned Slytherin. He never needed a reason for his actions, he just knew it to be the right one. The stillness of the night had enveloped him like a glove. In a way, he feared the dark. He hated the weight of the silence and helplessness as he gazed around but could not see. Even with the poor state of his eyes.

The blackness pushed on him and his thoughts. Anywhere was technically better than his thoughts, but he could never outrun them. That’s when Harry started to Occlude much more than he necessarily needed to. Harry had been cheating and drank bottles of Dreamless Sleep before he went to Hogwarts. The withdrawal symptoms were much more severe than he ever thought it to be. And as Harry’s eyes landed on the faint outline of the very familiar potion bottle, he dared himself to swipe it.

Harry felt a momentary moment of weakness and refused to succumb to the need to wallow in self-pity. That’s just counter-productive to Harry’s mission in being normal. As normal as a ‘Hero’ could get. Just like that night with Hermione, he summoned his braver side to take the reins while he tended to the imminent depression that pushed on his soul.

He couldn’t take the silence, nor the darkness any longer and made his way off the bed. With years of practice in being sneaky, it was almost like second nature to the wild haired boy. His feet made no sound as he retrieved his glasses and left the infirmary with minimal evidence. Once he got outside, he casted a non-verbal, wandless Disillusionment Charm. It was always handy to be able to be a powerful wizard who needn’t his wand.

This was one of the perks he considered to having enjoyed. Harry wasn’t sure where he’d decided to go, but it had to be anywhere far away from the castle. He had half a mind to wander over to Hogsmeade, but didn’t want to risk getting caught by others. So, he just wandered around the castle grounds, feeling the cool breeze settling on his skin. It was October, it’d be his parent’s death anniversary soon. Harry had always thought of an anniversary for his parent’s death to be the most bitter thing he’d ever felt. He knew the people meant well, but it always felt like they were purposely opening wounds he’d rather had time to heal for first.

Harry was in his pyjamas – kudos to whoever had dressed him – and began to take off his top. He was getting stiflingly warm, which was odd since autumn was well underway. He remembered feeling calm and tranquil after physical activities. Harry looked around the side of the lake and wondered how many laps he could run before he collapsed from exertion.

After thirteen laps, Harry’s lungs burned, his legs were jellies and his body felt more refreshed than ever. He could forget about what had happened with Zabini. But in his fourteenth lap, he was startled by a flash of light and a flash of panic ran through him. His chest pumped adrenaline through him, trying to keep him running away from the light, despite the screaming burn of his lungs. His legs were hardened again, propelling him forward. He was trapped in the forest again. There were snatchers at his heels and he couldn’t shake them off. Blinding jets of spells came barrelling towards Harry.

He didn’t know how long he ran for, but his mind was collecting itself. He was in the Forbidden Forest once again. It didn’t unsettle him like it always had. After facing his certain death, he hadn’t felt the fear that once gripped him like a vice. Of course, there were still the usual threats of Acromantulas roaming around, courtesy to Hagrid’s release of his little pal, Aragog and his kids. But if he was entirely honest, he could probably wipe out his entire species if he wanted to with a wave of his hand.

Harry had always underestimated the full extent of his powers. It was a very Dark one and very powerful. Though Harry would never wield it for evil or any other purposes. He squashed it down and tried to tame the magic when he killed Voldemort. Tales were told that Harry Potter was stronger because he shared the same magic as Voldemort. That, should the Dark Lord be snuffed, then Harry would return to become the same as anyone else, having lost the connection of powers. But no. Voldemort had only been a lid on the potential of the boy who lived. When the Dark Lord had indeed been defeated, Harry felt the full force of magic seeping through his skin and out to others.

Naturally, it was the Dark Wizards and Witches who could first feel Harry’s unstoppable power. It shocked them further when the Light Wizards and Witches could also sense Harry’s Dark Magic. Dark mages could sense other Dark mages and same rules apply to the Light mages. The horror and amazement at such a display of power was implausible.

Harry had managed to disconnect Grimmauld Place from the Floo Network and placed it under heavier wards, partly due to his paranoia, but also to protect those around him from his sheer force of magic. The slightest slip could have the potential to hurt others and Harry wasn’t having that.

Having ran enough, Harry decided to scale a tree and rest atop it. The atmosphere in the Forbidden Forest was certainly eerie, but up here in the trees, it was hauntingly beautiful. Casting his mind back to all those years he was here, he’d always been afraid. Being afraid over little twig snaps seemed ridiculous now. Almost comically so.

Harry knew he’d have to go back to the castle, to face Zabini. He dreaded every ounce of the confrontation, though, he was eager to throw a few punches in for the poor excuse of a man. He wanted to violently break his nose and maybe cut off his cock, to ensure further safety measures. But Harry knew that wasn’t on. He wasn’t about to defile somebody else for petty revenge. Even if what Zabini had done was one thousand times more revolting than slimy Blast-Ended Skrewts.

Harry supposed he could always keep people next to him and avoid Zabini altogether. He mused, maybe, he’d just get Malfoy to protect him like he had that night. All his regards and vehement thank you went to the blonde angel. He had to tell Malfoy he really was thankful. _Give him a lil’ peck, Potter_. Harry snorted at his own thoughts. Like hell he’d do that after what happened with Zabini.

Harry was lulled into sleep on the tree, without the help of Dreamless Sleep and was blessed with the images of the blonde angel that kept his nightmares at bay.

 

\--

 

Draco went up to the infirmary the next morning, hoping to catch a sleeping Potter, after breakfast. He was drenched in cold water, however, when hearing the news that Potter had gone from his bed. Pomfrey said it was most likely in the middle of the night, as Potter had been in bed when she last checked on him, only to find him gone in the early hours of morning.

His fists were clenched and he drew a shuddering breath before he turned and searched the castle for Potter. It was a particularly sunny day, with little to no grey clouds hanging over the moor. What a beautiful day for Potter to disappear. Merlin, he had half a mind to keep a track over where the Potty was going every time. He’d just become one big bundle of worry for Draco.

He made it his immediate priority to tell McGonagall and have a search party for Potter. Cold dread swept through his chest. Should Potter had taken the initiative to vanish himself. And, Draco really meant it, vanish himself from Hogwarts and the public itself. Draco felt his breath hitch, Potter wouldn’t, right? Please, he was the only person who’d been as understanding and pleasant to be with as any drug. Potter was like morphine. Whether Draco wanted to or not, he was already addicted.

He was addicted to the way Potter laughed, cried and showed his usual bouts of emotions. He fed on the fire that sparked in his eyes, granted it was dimmer, but it still shone for Draco. He’d seen how dulled those emerald eyes were every other time. But it lit up at the sight of Draco. And he didn’t want to sound conceited, but he really thought he’d be one of the things who could make Potty feel as alive as he could muster.

As he all but ran to McGonagall’s office, he let silent but steady streams of tears through. Potter couldn’t have been far. He had to be alive, please let the boy who lived, continue living. Draco would do anything to ensure the safety of the troublesome git. He’d do whatever was necessary to get his sweet morphine back. Then it hit Draco like a brick hitting his head. Draco _cared_ for the Golden boy.

 

\--

 

Harry was winded and in pain. He made the unwise decision of sleeping in the trees and had rolled over in his sleep. Resulting him in a state of helplessness as he lay on the earth, convinced he’s broken a few bones. He welcomed the pain, a distraction to his mind, which was loud and very conscious.

He took a sharp breath, causing his lungs and chest to inflame. Something was definitely broken. Harry’s eyes closed and he started to let his thoughts drown him. He’s allowed to indulge himself in a little self-pity before dying, right? Nobody would know he’s here and he was set with not healing his injuries.

It would be easy enough, though he didn’t know enough healing spells or charms. But enough to let him crawl back to the castle before blacking out from the pain, he’d assume. It wasn’t quiet in the Forbidden Forest. There were always sounds of rustling, or the wind, or soft padded thumping, which he would bet was a rabbit.

It was oddly calming. His head was starting to buzz and it was only safe to assume that he may be bleeding and is losing a substantial amount of blood. That would quicken the process of death, Harry thought. Ever since he came back from the dead, a spectacular circus trick by the one and only Potter, he tried not to dwell on whether he did the right thing or not.

He won’t deny that he had missed his parents, Sirius and Remus to the point of pain. He remembered dropping the stone onto the earth before he walked to his imminent death. How he wished he never did that. Some part of him wanted to crawl and look for the stone, but the other was already content – he’d be meeting them soon anyways.

It made Harry regretful for not having shown his thanks for Malfoy, for Hermione and Ron, for the staff of Hogwarts, for Neville, Dean and Seamus. For Luna, Ginny and the Weasley family. For anyone who fought valiantly by his side. He also had deep regret for not beating the shite out of Zabini. But at least he won’t have to live in such a trapped bubble anymore.

Ah, self-pity was a great thing to relish in. It made all his guilt wash away, replaced by the strong current of self-dignified claims and over exaggerating events and pain. Harry thought about whether dying and coming back to life was an overreaction to leading how he behaved, but he felt it was rather justified.

Listen to Dumbledore and those around him. Listen to the prophecy and the cries for people’s help. Listen as the Ministry and several hundred others bear down hell and onslaught against you. Fight for these damn berks, fight for the ones he’d rather be indifferent towards, but let the ones he cared about die as they sided with him.

Then, as if Harry hadn’t just saved a Wizarding World, blatantly assault him – whether it was by awe or by hatred. Some were angry at him, spiteful and resentful at the re-birth of this filthy Voldemort pair. How dare Harry Potter elude death and come back to life? Well, at least it was certain that Harry wasn’t to return. In fact, although having died once, he was still scared at the prospect of dying.

His mind gnawed at the thought of just dying here. He hoped, rather intently, that nobody would come searching for him. As the world was made to purely spite him, even out of death, Harry could hear voices. Panicked shouting echoing off the Forest and was maddeningly cringe. If Harry had known anything, it’s that that voice belonged to the prat, Draco Malfoy.

“POTTER,” He bellowed.

Harry contemplated whether he should reply to Malfoy. He saw that the Forest was getting increasingly dark. Well, would you look at that? It was the single most relaxing day Harry’s ever had and he was faced with death. Ironic how that is.

“POTTER, PLEASE,” Malfoy pleaded into the air of the Forest. His voice was croaked, as if he’d shouted for a very long time.

“Malfoy!” Harry called, sending a jolt of pain.

There was a sudden burst of heavy rustling and a green spark ricocheted off a tree and into the skies. It let out a little bang before showering in sparkles of green and white. Malfoy had called for Harry again. And Harry paralleled until Malfoy saw the body of the boy, every time it caused him to gasp out in increased pain. He rushed over to Harry’s side, his hand hovering over his body parts. There was great hesitance as he looked over the damage.

“I’ve always thought death evaded me,” Harry gave a soft breath of a laughter, causing him to wince at the act.

“Ah, yes. Such a pity,” Malfoy puts on a relieved smile, the dismay in his eyes grew. Harry was glad that Malfoy had the same sardonic humour as himself.

“Perks of being the Chosen One, I s’pose,” Harry’s eyes were extremely heavy.

“Don’t leave so soon, Potter,” Malfoy’s voice held a desperation which he did not bother to hide.

Harry closed his eyes. He never felt the pain truly ebb away. Not even taking the time to pound slowly. The pain stayed the same all throughout. Harry had been drifting towards unconsciousness for the longest time now. He was about to get it over and done with, but now his resolve had diminished. Malfoy wanted him to stay and it brought a tingly sensation to his chest, though that could just be the damage. It took Harry all he could to stay awake.

“I think I’ve broken something.”

“I’ve let McGonagall know you were found. Just… Don’t drift away.”

Harry let out a low chuckle. It was proving to be harder to not just cut all ties and join with his family. Something held Harry back. Malfoy was like an anchor for him. Through his hastily made decisions, he knew that it made him cry out in frustration as he made people worry over him. One of the few reasons why he didn’t go through with his plan to poison himself to sleep. But it was his life, after all. He should be having the veto vote for his decisions.

“Potter, open your eyes,” Malfoy urged. His hand was slithered into Harry’s.

“I’m tired.” Harry replied.

“I know, I know. But, please. Do it for my sake?” Malfoy’s voice was hopeful.

Harry gave out one bark of laughter before gasping in pain. His eyes, fluttered open and he convulsed as the spiked hurt slowly drilled down to a steady stream of pounding. His breath grew harsh, taking in little shallow inhales. Malfoy looked a pale as ever. Harry had to apologize to the boy.

“I’m sorry, Malfoy.” Harry started between ragged breaths, “I-,”

“No!” Malfoy cut him off. Seeing the panic in his eyes, Harry quickly amended what he’d say.

“Merlin, no, I meant, I’m sorry for dragging you in more trouble.”

The panic subsided, leaving behind a downcast glare at Harry.

“Damn right, you caused me trouble, you sod.” The way it was said was quite light-hearted.

Moments later, McGonagall and a few other staff members crowded around Harry’s body. They carefully levitated Harry, conjured up a stretcher, and placed him on it. Harry could barely keep his eyes opened. He had the best sleep in a while, yet he was feeling so weak and tired. It must be due to the blood-loss. Harry stared through his lashes at Malfoy’s red-rimmed eyes.

“Did you cry for me, Malfoy?”

A snort of indignance was the only thing he heard before he was pulled down into sleep.


	9. Temporary Resolutions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With a last glance at Potter’s blanched face, he strode to the doors and went down to the Common room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've come with yet another chapter!
> 
> Assignments are getting done but i have a temporary case of Writer's Block. So I will be utilising this time to continue to plow through my schoolwork.
> 
> Leave a comment on your thoughts about the chapter, or leave a kudos!
> 
> Thank you for taking the time to read my work!

Draco had dutifully sat through all the visiting hours next to Potter. Once he closed his eyes, he never re-opened them. He started to howl for the stupid sack of cow dung to wake up, but was halted by Professor Flitwick and further reassured that Potter was alive, by Madam Pomfrey.

Potter really was a handful. Draco didn’t know why he gravitated towards the boy so much. Or that the Chosen One caused so much trouble – intentionally or not. He was a magnet for danger. It may explain why Potter had always been in tatters every year. Also, he was placed in Gryffindor, which further proved his theoretical analysis.

Looking back at the sunken face of the boy, Draco can’t help but wonder why Potter had been out in the Forbidden sodding Forest. Or why the git was laying on the ground, chest bare, pooled in his own blood and arms twisting at an odd angle. Draco could never mistake the voice of a feeble Potter calling out his name. He could never overlook past the tangled mop of raven hair, the emerald eyes in pain. He won’t ever forget the dread that settled in when he saw the painstakingly pale complexion the boy took. It laid stark against the rich earth and the darkness that soon engulfed them.

It disturbed him further when he learnt that Potter must’ve been there since the night he disappeared. It made his gut shift when he saw the calm sheen over those bright eyes. They were the brightest Draco had ever seen in a long while, but they weren’t because of him. Draco supposed he knew that Potter won’t be completely the same. Hell, Potter’s adequately presented that to him.

At the start of the year, Potter looked a little ghastly, but still retained his normal behaviour. He’d laughed with his two mates, Granger and Weasel. He went about comforting others who had broken down and shook from the aftermath of the war. Potter was playing every part of the Hero as gallantly as ever. He made it his personal mission to set an example of being in harmony and peace. To eradicate prejudice against anybody, especially the Slytherins.

But somewhere in that, Draco could see Potter starting to be worn under the pressure. The pressure to become the Golden boy, the Chosen One, that everyone thought of him to be. Draco had to admit, Potter was a bit of a pushover. What can you expect from a boy who had all his life planned for him? Draco knew how it felt. He never thought he had a choice but to follow the Dark Lord, but it was painfully obvious that he had. Only, he didn’t think of any other way out.

Potter was slowly wasting away. Withering under the stares of so many. Each held different weights, some heavier than others. Draco knew this too, for he had also gazed upon the Saviour with a mass of appreciation and respect for the boy. He won’t show this outright, of course, but he grew up to be well mannered. He also grew up around politics and manipulation. It gave him a massive advantage over his charms and how to read people.

Not that Draco really needed it here. In Hogwarts, people dissed in the open. People who blamed Potter for the deaths of one person or another had always been easy to pinpoint. Of course, Potter took it as a rightful lash on him – as if he didn’t just save millions more lives. This dung headed Gryffindor needs to learn that he can’t save everybody and what’s done has been done. He also can’t possibly shoulder all the blame directed at him. That’s just insane.

Potter stirred and gave a very low groan. His eyes opened and narrowed in the harsh light, his lips were set in a temporary frown. He scanned the room once before landing his sights on Draco. Draco leaned against the foot of Potter’s bed and scowled. He had to have a long talk with Potter before McGonagall could do the same.

“Potter, I want to speak to you concerning your behaviour.” Draco nodded stiffly, adamant over showing how mad he was.

“Do I have a choice?” his voice was weak and heavy with sleep.

Potter just sighed in resignation and began to sit up before wincing in pain.

“Don’t get up.”

He settled in a half sitting and half laying position before letting out a ragged breath. Pomfrey should be giving this boy more painkillers and maybe ward down his quarters too. Once Potter looked like he was paying attention, Draco took a seat next to his bed and crossed his arms, leaning back.

“Potter, I hope you know how much of a tosser you really are.” Draco started, “Right after you get attacked, you just had to vanish from your bed in the infirmary and be somewhere else. And look at you. You’re in bed, again, but with broken bones and severe blood loss. This could have been avoided if you’d just _stay_. Stay like a normal patient, wait until you’re discharged and stop making people gratuitously worry over you. Stop creating more dangers for yourself, Potter.”

Draco took a deep breath in and expelled it with heavy weight. He raked his fingers through his fine hair and brought it down to rub at his jaw. Merlin, Draco was tired. Potter isn’t making things any easier, either.

“Potter, I don’t want to offend, but let’s face it, I will be. The world doesn’t revolve around you. Stop making it about you.”

Potter’s face was flushed with red. His fists were clenched and his eyes dulled like blunt knives. His mouth was further etched into a frown. Whether it was from humiliation or anger, Draco didn’t care. Because all he wanted was to get his message across. He wanted for the boy who lived twice, to stop living recklessly.

“Why were you out in the Forbidden Forest?”

“Why were _you_?” Draco asked incredulously. “And why, for Merlin’s tits, were you on the ground, half dead?”

“I fell out of a tree.” Potter said, refusing to collaborate.

“I’ve just had about enough with you, Potter. I’ve told your friends about what happened, you’ll be hearing from them. And expect to hear more from the Headmistress” Draco heaved out of his seat and tousled Potter’s hair.

With a last glance at Potter’s blanched face, he strode to the doors and went down to the Common room. Granger and Weasel were sitting in hunched positions. Draco cleared his throat, breaking the couple apart, and cocked his head towards the portrait, heading out. Granger nodded curtly before standing up and walked with more purpose and anger than he’d ever thought possible. It reminded Draco back in third year when she slapped him square in his cheek, one hundred percent pain and precision. Draco rubbed his jaw at the memory before going to his dorms. No matter what anyone said about how nice Granger was, she was as deathly scary as McGonagall.

 

\--

 

“HARRY JAMES POTTER,” the voice of Hermione roared into the silence of the infirmary.

Harry saw Hermione, her fists clenched at her sides and her cheeks blotted with red. Her eyes narrowed at the dishevelled state of Harry before she threw her hands up in the air and began her rant.

“Why am I not surprised? You didn’t speak to us for weeks and now you’re here, in the infirmary, _yet again_. Why weren’t we informed about your little mishap earlier? Why did I have to hear everything from sodding Malfoy!” she paced.

Ron looked the slightest bit put off with Harry, but didn’t make a big deal out of the feat. Surely, Ron was the type of mate who would let you off with a good enough excuse. But no, Harry was wrong. The ginger was the slenderest chance peeved at Harry for being the complete idiot he is.

“Harry, you have to understand. We’re here for you. We always are, and now I’m unreasonably boiling with irritation at your dim-witted self!” Hermione continued, she stopped pacing and have gripped the ends of Harry’s bed.

“I’m sorry, ‘Mione.” Harry mumbled.

“No, I’m still mad. You’re going to tell me exactly what happened. Why Malfoy was the one to know first and why you’re here looking -,” she waved at his figure with apprehension.

“Right, so, um. It’s best if you take a seat Hermione, Ron. Long tale.”

 

Harry had already recapped everything that happened, from the love potion occasion up to the Forbidden Forest. Hermione and Ron looked extremely troubled through the whole conversation. It has dawned on them that the Harry they knew was just keeping up a carefully composed façade.

Hermione’s jaw was hardened at the mention of the near rape and had proclaimed she would hex the boy into next year. Ron was as red as his hair and gripped his wand so tightly, Harry worried it might snap. The point was, both his mates didn’t like Zabini now. Not that they ever liked him in the first place. They just never thought about him.

“So, I’m thinking of heavily warding my bed and having at least one other person with me at all times. One who I know won’t take an advantage.” Harry suggested in the end of his recap.

“I’ll help you mate.” Ron said.

“I’ll get other people in on it, don’t worry, I won’t say anything specific if you don’t want to, Harry.” Hermione offered.

Harry smiled fondly to his best friends. He couldn’t have imagined what it would be like without them. He would try harder next time. Vowing to control his emotions, Harry reached out to his friends. They shuffled from their seats and enveloped him in a hug. It was gentle, but hard enough to make Harry wince in pain. But he didn’t care. He was glad he had his friends.

 

***

 

The next day, Harry was pardoned from the infirmary. He had a vial of Dreamless Sleep, still secured in the pocket of his school robes. Harry was determined to never use it, but he might need it in case of a bad nightmare. Thanking Madam Pomfrey, he was ushered into the Great Hall, where he was surrounded by people.

Harry felt trapped and all the bit tight. There were people gripping at his robes, others were clawing their way to touch his skin, his face and, in particular, his scar. Harry tried to back away, scanning overhead the crowds, he made a pleading eye contact to Hermione and Ron, who were already up along with Ginny and Neville. Then, he sent another gaze, catching the eye of Malfoy, who was also up.

Keep in mind that Harry is a very powerful wizard, still mastering to control his magic. So, when he felt surrounded, and his rescuers seemed to be taking years to reach, he couldn’t help the wandless and non-verbal shield charm that surrounded him, knocking those who were too close to him. People were aghast.

“Pair him up with a snake, and you’ll just have your next You-know-who!” A shout from the Hall made students scramble away from him.

“He’s a freak! Can you feel his Dark Magic?”

“Get lost, Potter. Haven’t you done enough!”

“Potter must’ve absorbed his powers when you came back!”

The Hall was noisy, too noisy. Harry made to leave, his shield following along him. He could barely hear the shouts of Hermione, Ron and Malfoy over the top of the accusations. Harry had always known people were still shaken from the war. And his Dark Magic didn’t exactly help his case out either.

Some bitch of a journalist wrote about the horrors of the boy who lived, stating: _Harry Potter, A Dark Wizard?_

Why would you write that at the end of a war? He knew that people were still apprehensive of him, but that article – complete with the bullshit theories of why Voldemort had targeted him in the first place – roused more fear. Fear of what might happen should Harry Potter succumb to the Dark Magic he owned.

But it was hardly fair. Yes, it was quite the revelation when Harry was gifted with Dark Magic and a Parselmouth, considering his parents were both Light Mages with no lineage of a Parselmouth. However, not all Dark mages were bad. Take Tonks and Sirius for example. They were both born into the Dark Mage lineage and they happened to be the best people he’s ever known. Shacklebolt, the Auror, was also a man possessing Dark Magic, yet he was the most loyal and best Auror Harry had ever met.

Maybe it’s because the Light Mages couldn’t feel the aura of a Dark Mage before, and therefore feels threatened. Wizards and Witches can feel the magic presence of one another, but they cannot detect whether the other is a Light or Dark mage until the release of their first magic wave, which occurs around when they are 4-5 years of age. Harry was a special case and had shown his wave from his first birthday. Then again, Harry Potter had always been a special case.

Of course, once they show if they’re a Dark or Light mage, the other mage opposite to their own lineage could not feel anything but the magic presence, therefore cancelling the choice of being their own kind and settling for the other. It surprised Hermione and Ron when they realised they couldn’t feel his magic lineage. Until Harry told them he was a Dark Mage, which made Ron utterly baffled.

“But? You’re Harry Potter. You basically a beacon of light for these poor sods.”

“Ron, just because he’s a good guy, doesn’t mean he has to be a Dark Mage. Take Sir Rulphus Hound for example…” And Hermione went into a detailed story concerning a Dark Wizard who fought for the freedom of other Wizards and Witches.

 

Harry had long fled the scene and was back inside of the abandoned classroom he threw desks in. His hand was clutched to his chest as he sunk down to the ground and sobbed. Magic rolled off him in despair, purple mist surrounded him and little sparkles represented his tears, weaving in and out of the mist. He had never felt so shattered before.

Hermione came first, penetrating the little mist cocoon he’d made for himself. She fell to her knees and cradled Harry’s head, stroking his hair and murmuring little whispers of assurances. Ron and Malfoy were staring gobsmacked at the mist and sparkles. Ginny and Neville followed suit. Because in the mist, it started to play out every one of his most fearsome moments. Flashes of green and red sparked against the purple mist. The image of a tortured Harry, the death of Hedwig, the death of his godfather and his best friend, a tortured Hermione – screaming from the carved ‘mudblood’. It was all on display for the spectators to view freely.

Moments of his life, ever since he was at the Dursleys, flickered. First year and his encounter with Quirell. Second year and the Chamber of Secrets. Third year and the whole fiasco with Sirius… it went on and on, showing Harry’s most bottled up fears, touching the fears to their hearts. Hermione, however, was as composed as she could be. Calming the sobbing Harry down.

Harry always knew how brave and brilliant Hermione was. She was a genius and was brave, compassionate. Scary too, but in a good way. If Hermione hadn’t been with Harry, he would’ve been lost all those years ago.

Suddenly, he couldn’t bear it at all. All his strings tying himself to the world thinned. The purple mist became a swirl of grey before they dropped back down, casting a dramatic effect for the two friends inside of the ring. Harry couldn’t leave, he still had responsibilities and hope. He had Teddy Lupin, he had his friends, and just maybe – even if bizarre – he had a string for Draco Malfoy.

_Merlin_ , he thought, _when did I become such a drama queen?_ He gave one last shuddering breath before hugging Hermione and stood to clear the heavy fog. A hand reaching out to Ron, he hugged his best mate in a vice like hug. Releasing, he gave a similar hug to Malfoy. It didn’t matter if he still felt the pain jab into him. The strong and steady beat of his friend’s hearts gave him an ounce of strength every time. He had gained new resolutions, just until Hogwarts ended.


	10. Building the Ship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It seemed that Harry was immensely wrong. His whole school was set on keeping Malfoy and him together anytime they were in the same area. Should Harry be passing in the common room, he was tugged to stick to Malfoy. At first, they were horrified as their sides were attached like magnets.
> 
> The school is going to build a 'ship'.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's Friday! Hallelujah, it means more time to do my schoolwork and jungle writing at the same time!
> 
> I felt like the chapter before got heavy and I wanted to lighten the mood up a little. I almost regret making Harry suffer that encounter with Zabini, and I like Zabini too. But what's done is done.
> 
> Please comment your thoughts on this chapter, constructive criticism is welcomed! or leave a kudos - or both!  
> Thank you for taking the time to read my work, like what even, how did this happen aahHHHH

It wasn’t long until Draco was put in detention for beating Blaise up to a pulp. Potter was there and visibly flinched, dragging both Granger and Weasel the opposite way down the corridor and away from the filth. Draco was about to leave Blaise alone, but he saw Blaise looking hurt. It snapped his mind and he lunged for his friend – can he still really call Blaise that? – before being broken apart by some professor, he didn’t care enough who it was. How dare Blaise act like _he’s_ the one who was hurt? All restraints diminished for Draco.

He supposed that he deserved the detention, given that it was unprovoked. As unprovoked as it could get for the strangers. He hadn’t shared the story to anyone and he assumed Potter would’ve told his friends. Draco only told Pomfrey about Potter’s influence under the love potion, rambling about some fan girl and told Headmistress McGonagall the same. He wasn’t sure if Potter would want the story to be out yet.

It proved to be a fruitless job as tales of ‘Potter the Bent’ circulated around school. Whether from their belated discovery of the magazine or from Blaise, he wasn’t sure. But he could see Potter not liking it, yet taking it like he always had.

Draco felt a little guilty about telling Potter that their Wizarding World was not as biased as the Muggle World, which was entirely true. However, this was the Saviour they were talking about. They’d expect the Hero to have a pretty wife, with pretty lives and pretty little babies. All the good conclusions to a happy Hero ending. But no, the Chosen One was exposed as a queer.

That said, his not-so-little fan club became huge. Madly giggling girls passed Potter and he’d hear them gossip about who to pair the boy with. He heard numerous pairings – some contained names of Muggle celebrities which he had never heard of – it irritated him to hear these arbitrary pairings and made him puzzled as to why it entertained them so much. He thought it was strictly between those crazed girls, but he found some of his friends talk about it. And much more to his shock, the Weasel, Granger and their Gryffindor bunch were partaking in the exact same act.

It was called, something that Draco had no idea why, ‘Shipping’. Baffled as he may be, he wasn’t left long to ponder upon the fact considering that he’d be too busy with his detention every night for two weeks. He had to clean the Potions class after a particularly bad explosion caused by none other than the Gryffindor human-detonator, Seamus Finnegan. It took him a good two days to scrub all the soot off the walls.

Another night, he was invited to sit next to Potter and Thomas during dinner, who were good naturedly bantering about some Muggle ‘football’ thing. He tuned out from that conversation but was soon interested by Pansy’s remark about the whole ‘Shipping’ debacle.

“Potter, have you heard?” she grinned mischievously

“About what?”

“You don’t know?”

Potter just looked around the table and shook his head. His face was genuinely confused and had no idea what Pansy was referring him to. She tutted disappointedly before she went back to smirking and took a seat opposite the Golden boy, elbowing a very indignant Weasel out of the way.

“Have you realised that since what happened – with those filthy shits who accused you – that nobody seemed to mind it after? They just simply… lost interest?” Pansy leaned forward, her elbows on the wooden table, peeking out from a pile of treacle tarts.

“Well, I just thought that the rest of the school didn’t really care, only those who shouted did,” he shrugged.

Pansy heaved a heavy sigh before Granger and the She Weasel started snickering. Potter glanced at the girls curiously as if he had never seen them before. Then he placed his eyes back to Pansy, who was looking at her nails before sending him a mock pout.

“Harry, you’re completely oblivious, aren’t you?” Finnegan interjected.

“To what?”

“Harry! Are you serious?” Granger erupted in more laughter.

Pansy, as if had had enough with Potter’s dimness, threw her hands up in the air and brought it down to the table again with a bang.

“Potter, you’re being made the centre of attention, not that you weren’t already,” she mumbled what sounded a lot like ‘ _Saint Potter’,_ “but it’s for a different cause now.”

“You’re being married off to one person or another by these thirsty fans,” she waved her hand at the general area, “And they’re making you a ‘shipping’ item.”

“Sor- I beg- Excuse me?” Potter stuttered, clearly understanding.

“I’ve heard that you and Cormac McLaggen was a popular ship!” the She Weasel burst into laughter.

“I thought he died?” Potter addressed Granger and the Weasel. She Weasel’s laugh dissolved.

“No, he managed to secure some Hufflepuff sixth years into safety with Aberforth.” Granger shrugged.

“Seemed to redeem himself after being a right prick,” the Weasel drawled.

“Happens in war,” Potter said with a finality in his voice.

Draco was momentarily distraught by how casually the Trio were discussing about the deaths of people. He’d at least thought that they would have some decency to be a little more discreet with how they went about things. Considering they were all sappy Gryffindors.

Potter nodded. “Right.”

The group was silent again as they shovelled food down their throats, looking uncomfortable. The Golden Trio looked the least uncomfortable. Maybe they had been desensitised towards such topics. Speaking of casualties in an off-handed manner. Potter shifted and put his fork down.

“So, have I been paired off with any of you lot?” he started.

“Eh, not so much. We’re technically already officially paired off, so that dampens the girls.” Finnegan explained, “but Malfoy’s status is unknown, people are steadily pairing you off with him.”

Draco stilled. He had never heard of such a thing. Though hearing Potter being paired off with another person was infuriating him, he couldn’t stop the warmth of smugness fill out his chest. But why? Why did he feel this way? It must be because he’s the Golden boy and it’s flattering to be paired off.

“That’s new,” Potter huffed.

“Forbidden love, mate.” Weasel sniggered.

“Shove off, Ron,” Potter snapped at the ginger without any malice.

 

\--

 

Harry had come to realise that he wasn’t at all annoyed by being made into a thingy by his schoolmates. It all sounded silly, really. Especially when he heard Cormac McLaggen, that egoistical prick, was the most popular pair with him. But he had a moment of shyness and embarrassment – and maybe a hint of pleasure? – when he learnt Draco Malfoy was a close second.

It mortified him to think that he could ever be together with the prat. He had no objections to being acquaintances, maybe go as far out as friends, but being together like that? Harry already knew it was the muggle-borns and half-bloods who introduced the idea of ‘Shipping’. He’d never have heard it in the Wizarding World and even Ron looked confused at the term. Of course, that was before he learnt what it was and started to ‘ship’ Harry with any object he could find.

Once Ron halted Harry and Hermione in their tracks and pointed to a potted plant before saying:

“I ship it.”

It had been insufferable for Harry with his friends being downright arseholes about it, but he was glad since it took others’ minds off Harry’s powers and the fuck up of a Journalist. Not long after, the Professors and Heads of Houses started to join in the ‘shipping’ fanatic. And boy was it entertaining for his best mates.

In Potions, Slughorn seemed to particularly like the Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter combination more than others, but he suspected it was due to Malfoy’s skill in keeping Harry from destroying the classroom with his horrible potion mishaps. Therefore, he implemented a seating plan and kept the two together.

In Charms, Flitwick seemed bent on the Harry Potter and Wayne Hopkins, a Hufflepuff boy in his year, who Flitwick deemed to be a ‘lovely sight’. Hopkins was tall, lean and had sandy hair. For a moment, the boy reminded Harry of Remus, but one who was with pitch black eyes and no scars adorning his face. Hermione thought that it was a strange pair, since he too, reminded her of Lupin.

The other teachers were more kind in not letting Harry know anything about their mirth within the subject, but soon enough, it was apparent that the Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter pair dominated the school. Ron would howl at the top of his lungs about ‘Forbidden love’ and ‘Star-crossed Lovers’. It got the laughs out of Dean and Seamus, provoking them to do the same. Only much worse.

Every damn time, whenever Malfoy and Harry were somewhat in the same vicinity, Dean and Seamus would shower the two with red rose petals. Little cherub babies with bows started to attack anyone too close to the boys and would begin attacking them if they did not move closer to each other. This resulted in a very grumpy Malfoy and a very tired Harry. At first, they would run away from the cherubs. But it proved to be a very tedious act and soon enough, the boys just succumbed to walking together.

The same was happening as of now. Harry saw the petals fall, Ron and Hermione scrambled out the way along with others. It wasn’t Dean or Seamus this time. It was a group of sixth years who were laughing and howling like mad. Harry saw the baby cherub being released and started to clear a path for Harry. Malfoy and Harry made eye contact before they both sighed in resignation and drifted together.

“When do you think this’ll end, Potter?” Malfoy drawled.

“As soon as they get bored, which would be soon, I think.” Harry sounded so sure that Malfoy raised an eyebrow at him. “Trust me, it’s getting boring.”

With a shrug, they both walked to their classes before separating, their cherubs giggled in glee.

***

It seemed that Harry was immensely wrong. His whole school was set on keeping Malfoy and him together anytime they were in the same area. Should Harry be passing in the common room, he was tugged to stick to Malfoy. At first, they were horrified as their sides were attached like magnets.

A Slytherin fifth year explained that they had to be in contact with each other to do anything. May it be just their pinkies or the ends of their hair, before squealing with glee and fled. Malfoy and Harry were mostly seen with wrists stuck together, as if they were held together by an invisible cuff.

The most awkward encounter would be if one had to take a piss. Malfoy really needed to go and Harry was so lost and horrified that he casted a temporary Blinding Spell on himself. Harry was already blind enough to begin with, but the charm made him twice as sure.

The two boys were forced to spend more time together. It unsettled Harry how content and undisturbed he was with Malfoy there. They were mostly quiet together, but it wasn’t awkward. Compatible silence was what they had. Even Ron was shaking his head with how well the Slytherin and the Gryffindor took it. Maybe it was because of their common desire to seek peace and quiet after the war.

Malfoy was also a great help with Potions homework. Their magnetic urge always disappeared after dinner time until breakfast. Then the cycle repeats itself. But Harry wasn’t having any more of it. He’d enjoyed Malfoy – if you could really say that – and would like his solitary time back.

Putting on his Invisibility Cloak, he headed off to the Slytherin common room and halted. He didn’t know the password and began to spew whispered words that he thought would be the right password. As he time drew longer, he got sillier with his word vomit. When he landed on ‘Salazar’s Tits’, the door opened. Amused and shocked, he slipped right in and searched for a Sophie Perks.

He spotted her lounging with an opened book on her lap, her thick black hair tucked behind her ears. What a swot. He folded the cloak and stuffed it inside of his robes and marched up to her. Perks, sensing him, raised a sculpted eyebrow before shutting her book and waved over to the opposite chair. He sat down and took a deep breath. As he was going to say something, she cut him off.

“How’d you get in?”

“I guessed the password.” Harry chuckled. “Salazar’s Tits.”

“Yeah, a seventh year was given the privilege of setting the password.” She scrunched her nose in distaste. “You’re here because you want me to remove the bind, I s’pose?”

“You got that right.” Harry said sternly.

Perks sighed and leaned forward, taking Harry’s wrist and putting her wand to the inside of his elbows. Murmuring an unknown incantation, the tips of her wand glowed bright red and Harry felt something lift from his whole body. Must be the magnets in his systems which were only attracted to Malfoy.

“Cheers, Perks.” Harry saluted and left the common room, clothing himself with the Invisibility Cloak once more. It occurred to him that Perks might be bluffing and did something worse with his body, but he’d just have to confirm it in the morning.

Harry went to bed and warded his bed, putting a Muffliato Ward along with the rest. He didn’t want to disturb his dorm mates. Slipping into the covers, he drifted to sleep. Merlin knows he needs it.


	11. Back to square one

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I guess we’re back to square one,” Potter said.  
> “I guess so.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea where I'm going with this but my mind is heading in bad directions. It's ironic because I hate unhappy endings but that's all I can think of. aahHHHH
> 
> Leave a comment on your thoughts in this chapter or leave a kudos! I mean you don't have to, but it's appreciated.  
> Thank you for taking the time to read my weird and unorganised work!! It means so much!

Draco was buttoning up his shirt when he felt a slight tug at his hip. He looked around but found nothing, thinking that it might be his own imagination. Potter had told Draco that he made Perks release the spell and that Potter won’t be sticking to Draco anymore. He won’t lie, he felt a little strange when he didn’t immediately meet the Pothead first thing in breakfast, but he guessed a week of sweet silence was more than he had ever hoped.

Putting on his school robes, he dug around his trunk for the misplaced tie – a very uncharacteristic move on Draco’s part – when Potter groaned in frustration. Potty was hopeless with ties and he left it undone, swinging his bag up his shoulder and made to leave. He halted in the doorway and turned back to Draco.

“You coming?” he said

If Draco was surprised, which he was, he did not show it. He only swept up his bag and made to the door, doing his tie as they walked. Draco’s robes were put on properly and fit him perfectly, whereas Potter’s robes were sliding off one shoulder, his top buttons undone and his tie in his hands. It was a very casual and sloppy look, but it fit the boy. A little too well, if Draco was to be asked.

“Look sharp, Potter. Don’t want to attract unwanted attention,” Draco pointed to his collarbones.

Potter snorted before buttoning it up and trying futilely to do up his tie once more. Then, when Potter balled up his fists, scrunching the cloth around his hands, he took out his wand and pointed it to his tie. Why didn’t he do that in the first place? Draco shook his head.

“Feels weird,” Potter said.

“What does?”

“Not being stuck to you.” He craned his head back to look over to Draco. “It’s like losing a really important valuable that has been set to curse you.”

“Did you just compare me to a _valuable_?” Draco ignored his blush from being called important. He’s sure there was nothing meant from it.

“Might’ve done.”

“I never knew there would come a day where Potty would give me a backhanded compliment.” Draco sniffed.

“First time for everything, right Malfoy?” Potter was very cheerful.

He was probably only cheerful knowing that he wasn’t stuck to Draco for the whole day. Potter might say that it’s weird not having to stick to Draco, but that’s only because that’s all it is. A habit forced upon you and it becomes routine. Draco felt a pang of displeasure from the thought of not having to be with Scarhead all the time. What? No, Malfoys don’t need obnoxious scarheads.

They both turned to the Great Hall and was immediately ambushed by their schoolmates. There was a violet flash which blinded Draco, causing him to stagger back and bump into somebody. The Great Hall erupted in cheers and claps for whatever was happening. All Draco wanted was his sight back.

Then, the white spots ebbed away and he could finally take in the scene. There were white doves swooping, a red carpet rolled from Draco’s feet to the end of the Hall. The floor had white flower petals all over and the Professors looked mighty amused. He was shocked, but not as shocked as when seeing Potter, beside him.

He had a bouquet on one hand and his bag in the other. A crown of flowers rested atop of his head. He looked every bit like an angel. There were silver strings which hugged his wrists. And was connected to Draco’s wrist.

They both looked at their wrists and looked up to each other’s eyes. Potter looked amused and resigned. Both boys heaved a sigh. Get rid of one bond, come back with another. _At least you’ll have an excuse to spend more time than necessary with him_ , his mind unhelpfully supplied.

“I guess we’re back to square one,” Potter said.

“I guess so.”

They were declared married.

***

The school was nothing short of chaotic. Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter were now as close to a married couple than anybody in this school – save for the Weasel and Granger. There were now much more leniency than the bond Sophie Perks put upon them. They could walk far enough but the strings always attached them together. The string just elongated as they went out further, but it never disappeared.

Of course, Potter nor Draco could never be far apart for too long. The strings glowed gold before reeling itself in, pulling the boys together. Draco didn’t want to admit, but he was glad he’d been paired up with this dork and not the others.

The ‘shipping’ branched out from Potter to other students. There was Terry Boot paired with some poor Ravenclaw girl. She was adamant about being with Boot, as she was more in love with the library and would not have that taken away from her. But Boot just complied to go wherever she was since they were also bound to each other.

Potter was next to Draco in the common room. He was holding a pencil and a sketchbook, drawing away what’s in front of him. His hair was as unruly as ever, his face was scrunched in concentration and the fire gave him a glow to his skin. They were very close. Draco could feel Potter’s arm brush him every now and then. Their hips were joined and Potter’s right leg was swung over Draco’s left leg.

It didn’t bother him at all. In fact, he loved the weight and warmth that radiated from the Golden boy. Which was both confusing and infuriating him. How did Potter make him feel all warm and giddy every time they were together? Was it the bond? It must be. That’s how sodding Boot complied to the Ravenclaw girl.

“Malfoy, stop fidgeting.” Potter didn’t look away from his art.

“Put your leg back on the ground,” he commanded.

Potter turned to look at him and his leg. He seemed dumbfounded, like his leg had a life of its own, before smirking back to Draco and swinging his whole body across Draco’s lap. A flash of worry came over him. Potter was unbelievably light for his height. But it soon dissolved once he saw the way Potter was across his lap.

Draco couldn’t help the impulse. There was no one else in the common room, it’ll be fine. He grabbed Potty’s wrists and pinned them above his head before bringing his left hand down on Potty’s arse. The boy scrawled upon his lap gave a sharp cry which broke Draco’s trance. His heart was hammering and he laughed.

“Do that again, Potter, and I’ll give you twenty,” Draco joked.

“What the fuck, Malfoy?” he thrashed in Draco’s grasp but was far too feeble to do anything.

“Tut, tut. Any wife of mine shouldn’t indulge in such crude language.”

“W-w-wife?” Potter stuttered, obviously flustered.

Draco held up his wrist and placed it with Potter’s. Potter’s gaze landed on the wrists and sighed again. His head drooped before he sat up and studied the silver string. It was very thin, no thicker than a thread, but held the strength of wired metals. But there, it glowed and a close enough look could see the words _POTTER – MALFOY_ in white cursive.

“How does this marriage thing work?” Potter questioned.

“Well, we’re bound by this string here.” Draco pinched the sliver, “This is acting as our vows, I suppose.”

Potter frowned and stared at Draco’s eyes. Their breaths hitched. Draco could see Potter’s delicate mouth part; his emerald eyes were darkened and his cheeks flushed. He could taste Potter’s breath mingling with his own. They were too close.

“When does it end?”

“Eager to rid of me?” Draco held a palm over his heart, pretending to be offended.

Potter rolled his eyes and went back to the drawings he did.

 

\--

 

_Harry was sitting on a rock, overlooking the Black Lake. It was dark at first, but the clouds rolled out, showing the moon. As light crept in, he saw the full image of the lake. It was drenched in crimson, bodies lay afloat and Harry wasn’t sitting on a rock, like he thought he was. He was sitting on a pile of bones with a snake curled around his feet. He held the three Deathly Hallows and was cloaked in black. Harry was death himself._

***

Harry woke up to a hand smoothing down his hair. For a moment, he’d want to just stay and feel the calming gesture for the rest of his life. But then he remembered where he was. The common room fire crackled, and his head was on Malfoy’s lap. Malfoy was reading a book, his hand absentmindedly stroked at Harry’s hair. Harry shifted and Malfoy turned his attention to the boy.

“You alright?” Malfoy frowned in worry.

He couldn’t help but have his breath caught in his throat. There were tears streaming down Harry’s face, and sweat stuck his fringe to his forehead. Taking a deep shuddering breath in, Harry closed his eyes once more and leaned closer to Malfoy’s hand.

It was such a small gesture that offered him so much safety. His next breath out was a sob. It was an imperceptible thing, but not to Malfoy. He dragged Harry up and held him against his chest. Harry wrapped his arms around Malfoy and buried his face against his neck. There were strong arms encircling his waist, patting his back and whispered murmurs that soothed him.

Harry couldn’t help but to let himself go for this night. One night. The familiar smell of Malfoy overcame him. It was sweet, citrusy and a little intoxicating. Harry felt Malfoy lean into his neck, heard the sniff and felt, rather than heard, the hum of approval.

“Potter, I don’t think we did the Amortentia wrong.” Malfoy’s voice was low and husky.

“You think?”

“I’m sure of it,” Malfoy said as he leaned in to brush his lips against Harry’s.

It was such a small and limiting touch, but it sent shockwaves through his body. Malfoy pushed Harry back on the couch. His hand slipped up Harry’s shirt, and started to explore his torso. His mouth was on Harry’s neck and jaw, nipping away at the flesh bared for him. Harry couldn’t do anything but to be completely still, his breath erratic and laying down like water underneath Malfoy’s heated touch.

It was when Malfoy decided to flick his nipple, did he gasp and brought his hands to Malfoy’s shoulders. He ran his hands through Malfoy’s hair as the boy started to mark down Harry’s body. Harry couldn’t think, his head was buzzed up and he felt momentarily frightened.

“ _Draco_ ” He moaned.

A possessive growl ripped through Draco’s body at the mention of his name. He pulled Harry’s shirt open and claimed his mouth in a very slow and languid kiss. Harry’s hands slid up the muscled back, pressing him closer to Harry. Harry moved his hands to cup the growing bulge in Draco’s pants. Draco pressed his groin to Harry’s hands, a groan elicited sensually from his lips. Draco’s breathing became more ragged and he threw down his own shirt away from him.

“I think I’m falling for you.” Harry’s voice was weak and sexed up.

Then a pained expression was settled in his face. Harry thought he did something wrong. Grabbing both sides of the blonde, he searched his face.

“Potter, _Harry_. These feelings…” He trailed off, his eyes fluttered shut.

“What is it?”

“They’re not real.” The words cut Harry like a sharp knife.

“No, that’s not true. I’ve always liked you since third year.” Harry came to the realisation that his obsession mightn’t’ve stemmed from Draco being a Death Eater. It ran deeper than petty student rivalry. He had always been attracted to the blonde. He just didn’t want to admit it. That was why he dated that muggle. Because he resembled Draco so much, it hurt to separate. But now he was pinned underneath the real thing and it was heavenly.

“It’s just the bonds, they’re making us feel this way.” Draco’s eyes were still shut.

“What about the Amortentia?”

“They’re unhealthy obsessions. They’re not actual love potions.” Draco’s eyes finally opened.

Harry stiffened and withdrew his touches from Malfoy. Those grey eyes were uncertain and masked behind a stoic expression. This was the most bullshit situation and it turned Harry off like a flick of a light switch.

“Oh, I see.” Harry said coldly.

He shoved Malfoy away from him and saw the silver string still attaching them together. Disgusted, humiliated and angry, he pulled it with force. Blood dripped from his hand which broke the bond and he pulled his shirt back on, running away from the blonde man.

He heard the shout of his name from the same man, his voice tinged with worry. He felt panic rising his chest and a sob. The silver string waved around in the air, no longer binding him to Malfoy. It hurt him to the point where he’d rather pitch himself off the Astronomy Tower.

Harry ran to the Quidditch pitch and Summoned his Firebolt. Mounting it, he rose higher and higher before plunging back down to the ground and pulling up at the last second. Flying was a great alternative to being tempted to jump off the Tower. Soon, his limbs were frozen and his head cleared up.

Malfoy had already rejected Harry. All he wanted was to go back to Grimmauld Place and lock himself up before he does something he might regret. Like falling for Draco Malfoy. But it’s too late and now he wants to play video games with Hermione and have Ron stare puzzled at the TV screen. Those were the best days of his lives. It’s childish to think of such a thing. Harry spent the night laying on the Quidditch pitch, hoping the moon would take him away from this place.


	12. Do I? Or do I not?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m such a piss-pot for thinking this.” Harry murmured to himself.
> 
> “You wouldn’t, Potter.” A cold and berating voice grazed on Harry’s ear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YEpp.
> 
> I've been writing another drarry story, not related to this one. It's like, long. Almost like a proper book, but Idk if people would read it? yeah tell me in the comments if you would read a story where Harry is kidnapped and abused and Draco's panicking, trying to save him.
> 
> Anyways, please tell me your thoughts on the chapter! I hadn't intended to upload so early but I procrastinated (i hate myself). Leave a Kudos! Or don't, you know, no pressure!

Hermione saw Harry slip into the common room with tousled hair and blue lips. The bags under his eyes were much darker and his eyes looked devoid of life. She followed him, heading to the boys’ dorms, and grabbed his freezing elbow. He flinched but smiled when he saw her. The smile didn’t reach his eyes and it made Hermione’s gut clench.

Harry had always been struggling from the place where he was, but he was getting better. He ate, studied and socialised like any other healthy 18-year-old boy. Yet Harry had always been a special case. His smiles were thrown around like a ball. He always tried to shrink further away from fame and downplayed anything he did. ‘Oh no, I’m still Harry’. He bloody well was, and Harry always seemed to take anything given to him.

Then came along Malfoy. Harry told Hermione that he was tired of petty playground fights. That he would be more civil towards the boy. And she applauded him for it, for being an adult and putting past differences aside. They grew extremely close and was even ‘shipped’ together. Harry had never looked healthier than he did with Malfoy – even if it was a begrudging thought to Hermione.

Then why, did Harry look as lost as he had the first time they arrived at Hogwarts? Why was he back to closing off the world around him? It frustrated Hermione to see her best friend looking so helpless. And she knew how much Harry hated helplessness.

“Harry, are you alright?”

“No, but I will be.” Harry gave her another tight smile before shrugging her off and slipping inside of the boys’ dorms. Hermione sighed and paced back to the common room. She saw something interesting and that was the silver string around Harry’s wrist. It was severed. Malfoy must have been the cause.

Hermione didn’t want to press for the subject, but a withdrawn Harry has proved to do shitty and moronic things. Considering how stubborn Harry was, she was surprised he lived as long as he did. Not to be mean to her best friend, but he was incredibly thick and had a blind sense of justice. Though, he started to become slightly manipulative around their fifth year.

She can’t do much about the cause as of now. But she will get to the bottom of it.

***

The next few days had been occupied with Harry trying to avoid a certain Malfoy. Every time Malfoy was anywhere near the area, he’d turn around and walk off the other way. He said it was for a change of the tedious. Hermione knew better, of course.

Harry, Hermione noticed, had also spoken to each professor about his seating arrangement. However, the pattern were professors who had Harry and Malfoy sit next to each other. Professor Slughorn was the only professor who did not comply, surprisingly enough.

Harry walked dejectedly back to the seat near Malfoy and sent him a curt nod, before staying silent the whole lesson through. It was bizarre seeing the pair not banter through their potions. No insults thrown around about their skills, no jokes sent flying about.

Students had also backed off Harry and Malfoy. They could tell the cold fissure between them and dared not to push further. Once, a sixth year tried to bind Malfoy and Harry together again, and Harry released a wandless shield around himself. He told her to stop and walked away. Malfoy looked perplexed and dismayed, before sending a pleading look at Hermione and Ron.

 

Hermione soon had sought out after Malfoy, having felt that talking to Harry was as useful as talking to a rock. A very broken and stubborn rock. There was Potions and then lunch right after. Hermione was sure that Malfoy could delay lunch for a few measly minutes or so. If he couldn’t, well tough luck. She was also as stubborn as a mule if it came down to it.

Harry looked rigid in Potions and had a stoic mask placed in. Malfoy leaned towards Harry, whispering something in his ear. Harry leaned away ever so slightly, not to be noticed by anyone who didn’t pay special attention. Then, the brunette only gave a pained look over to Malfoy before his mask was back on.

Whatever the problem was, this passing only confirmed Hermione’s suspicions. Malfoy was the culprit and he would know far better, or maybe would try to be more compliant, than Harry would be towards her interrogations. It reminded Hermione of the dungeons in Malfoy Manor again. How Harry was especially escorted out by Bellatrix Lestrange – Voldemort’s personal favourite.

Then he never came back for what felt like days, weeks, months, _years_. She was often with Ron and Luna, taking no other notices of the world. When Harry came back with a very bright Dobby, the House-elf, he was bruised and looked slightly unhinged. There was pure fear in his eyes, recollected back when the fight broke out. His grief was immense as they silently watched Harry sob over the dead House-elf.

“Don’t you think that Harry looks more mental today?” Ron interrupted her reverie.

“You notice it as well?” Hermione answered his question with one of her own.

“Well, yeah. It’s not that hard to see.”

Hermione nodded silently and went back to their presented cauldron, noting down every ingredient used, every method wielded for the potion and their use. It was a very familiar concoction. Hermione had often seen, smelt and dealt with it. A Calming Draught, but an enhanced version of one.

 

Finished class time, Hermione told Ron and Harry that she would be staying back to talk to Slughorn. As if she would. There wasn’t a thing the Potions Master could say to her now. She had memorised every book there was to know – both the light and the dark stuff.

There was Malfoy, surrounded by his usual party of friends. Parkinson and Greengrass. No doubt it would be unwise to approach them on her own, but she couldn’t wait on the matters of her best friend. She hurried over to Malfoy, stopping the trio’s way. The girls either side of the blonde narrowed their eyes, Parkinson’s lip was curling into a sneer.

“I need to talk with you, Malfoy.” Hermione’s voice was steady and hard. “In private.”

“ _Oh_ , are you trying to pull something here, Granger?” Parkinson’s nasally voice was mocking.

“It’s about Harry.” Hermione pressed further, only looking at the blonde.

With the mention of Harry’s name, Malfoy nodded and drove the two sniggering girls out of their way. Hermione turned to walk over to a secluded alcove, not even giving a second glance behind her to check if Malfoy followed or not.

She sighed and dropped her bag onto the floor, leaning against the stone wall. She waved Malfoy, who had been following her, to the space opposite her. She didn’t waste any breath in making small talk and cut to the chase.

“What happened between you and Harry?”

Malfoy recoiled a little, his gaze wavered and he gave a sharp intake of breath.

“Nothing.”

“Well it’s bloody obvious it wasn’t just _nothing_.” Hermione sounded exasperated. “If it was nothing, Malfoy, then Harry would’ve been the same. He’s more closed off now than ever. I don’t know what happened, I won’t ask for more details, but you must understand. Harry was better with you. Better than he was, anyway.” She added after seeing the obvious disbelief etched into Malfoy’s pale face.

“Whatever happened, fix it up.” She demanded him. “As much as I hate to thank you for it, you were the reason why he isn’t off to kill himself. To be so willing to flirt with Death.”

“It’s not easy.” Malfoy was uncharacteristically calm. “I can’t be of much importance to him, he’ll get over it soon. It was just a simple misunderstanding.”

“Right, I hope you’re right.” The coldness in her voice was unmistakable. “Because if I’ve found out that he’s unwell in any state – you were the tipping point, Draco Malfoy.”

She had accused him without shame. It was every ounce of truth held onto her words. Any other outbursts could’ve pushed Harry to the edge. Hell, even that time where he broke down, it should’ve made more sense that that were his final resolution than Malfoy.

But Malfoy understood what she was saying.

Without a doubt, she twirled away, disrupting the dust in the alcove. Hermione wouldn’t let Harry’s slim chance at full recovery slip once he’d gotten it. If Hermione wasn’t a smart Gryffindor, then she would be nothing at all.

 

\--

Harry was back in the Astronomy Tower and looked over the horizon. He Occluded for the longest time imaginable, trying to shrink any detestable desires hidden and lurking in his mind. Looking from down the edge, his efforts slipped and he could taste the feeling of freedom should he just _drop_ -

But he stopped himself. A small rejection shouldn’t hurt him. It’s happened before with Cho, he won’t go back to his undiluted stupor. The wind thrashed strongly against his body, chilling him to the bone. As he looked over the darkened sky, he silently congratulated himself with being a full adult. He didn’t brood over the seating arrangements he and Malfoy shared. He didn’t flinch when Malfoy said anything – but that was most likely from the Occluding he’s done.

Whatever the reason was, it helped him become the better man. But he got tired. He couldn’t Occlude for the rest of his life. Plunging the efforts down, he sat, his legs dangling over the edge as he knotted his fingers together. The height reminded him bitterly of Dumbledore.

Harry was struggling even more than ever finding reasons to stay. Teddy Lupin was a big factor, considering he’d taken a liking to Harry. He was going to meet Teddy next weekend down at Hogsmeade. Harry will say that he’d missed Teddy very much. And that he wanted to apologise for being a shit godfather.

He’d left Teddy with Andromeda Tonks until school ended. He’ll be in Grimmauld on Christmas. He’d planned everything carefully before surrendering to the light. Yet everything was taking their bloody time. _Teddy, remember Teddy._ Harry’s mind chanted along. It’s his fault his fucking parents died. He owed Teddy. Teddy deserved a life more pleasurable than Harry’s, even with his parents gone.

Harry knew what it’s like to lose his parents, to not even know them beforehand. He was well sure he’d keep him safe. Any qualms and petty fights he had involving a certain blonde shouldn’t be a tipping point for his calm resolute. It shouldn’t even worry him in the slightest. He wouldn’t get rifled by this raw passion.

Hell, it’s not an easy decision. He didn’t want to inflict any pain over anybody, but to go through life for the sake of others… he’s done that plenty of times. He’s done his job, right? He made sure he wrote separate notes for all he cared. He left a general one on his bed. He wanted people to know that he was happy and in control of his thoughts when this happened. He planned to do it over Christmas holidays, but then that’ll just spoil everyone’s moods.

Then again, Harry had every reason to believe he was important to some people. No matter how long he drew it out, they’ll still be sad at the outcome, right? _Maybe if you fell whilst being covered in the invisibility cloak?_ Harry contemplated. No, if people didn’t find his body the moment his body is lifeless, that’ll cause stress and panic. Not to mention – he pitied anybody who had to come sniff the stench of decomposing body and then discover it under the Invisibility Cloak.

 _NO HARRY_ , his mind bantered, _REMEMBER. YOU HAVE RESPONSIBILITIES AND LIFE DEBTS_.

The thought just churned Harry’s empty stomach. Life debts. How was he supposedly ‘free’ with all he’d done? He still had unresolved business. Is that really a life Harry wanted to be living off? Teddy could be signed over to Andromeda. If she needed any help, there was already the care of the Weasley’s, Hermione and Ron, maybe Malfoy’s family, seeing as they were related and that Narcissa Malfoy had gone over to Grimmauld, loving Teddy in a heartbeat.

Harry stood again, his head peering over the edge. No matter how dark it was in the night, Harry could always see the ground as clear as anything. As if his senses were gripped by the seducing manner of Death. Oh, how tantalising was the thoughts that edged his mind now. His shield was gone and he could feel the provocative thought of being with all who he cared.

He thought of his best mates again. They’ll miss him for a period, but he was sure they’ll go about their lives just fine without him. Once he falls, he only hopes to be reunited with those he loved. Maybe he’ll see his parents laughing along with Sirius and Lupin in Wizard heaven, welcoming him? The thought made him chuckle a little. He was going mad.

Yes. He was mad. he’d been unhinged from the moment he saw Sirius die. He’d been made a martyr to the war and had even a taste of what death been like. Clean, pristine and gloriously of all troubles. That was, of course, before Dumbledore came and made him go back. He guessed he’d made the right choice by staying. But now it was his life to the picking.

Teddy, would be safe. He had more access to help and loving carers. Even if it weren’t Harry. Could he hold out until next weekend? Just to see him, maybe gain some more courage. But those six days seemed to stretch into six years for Harry.

He got up straighter and nearer to the edge. As much as he tried to reason, to fight back this urge. He couldn’t restrain himself, it was as if his body instinctively put himself dangerously close to the ledge. _Just a peek, you won’t jump. Just a little look is all_. His mind’s cogs whirred through. Yes, just a simple glance before tasting. Like his precious treacle tarts. A look before a taste.

“I’m such a piss-pot for thinking this.” Harry murmured to himself.

“You wouldn’t, Potter.” A cold and berating voice grazed on Harry’s ear.

He didn’t even have to turn to know the voice went to bloody Malfoy. His barrier against jumping was quickly dissolving. He couldn’t jump, not now. _Do it_ , his mind hissed. _No, I can’t_ , Harry fought back. _I won’t, I won’t_. It was like fighting off an Imperius Curse.

His feet shuffled forwards, anymore and he’d tip over the unforgiving darkness. But Harry wasn’t in proper control anymore. It was as if his soul was detached from his body. All he could do was witness the bitter shell of a boy, walking towards the embracing arms of Death. How emo.

If there weren’t arms to stop Harry, then he was sure he’d be lost to the living world. Malfoy’s vice grip on his waist was painful. Did Harry care, though? No. He just slumped forwards, yearning for the release the Tower was about to give him. Gaining little control over his thoughts, he felt loathing burn though. How despicable and disgusting was it for Harry to piss away his life that others – who he dearly cared for – had nobly put on the line for.

A gasp broke through his lips, and he was pressed against Malfoy. He heard dull heartbeats, saw the rise and fall of his chest and heard the low murmurs slip through those lips. ‘It’s okay’, ‘you’re such an idiot’, ‘why are you such a bastard?’. Words insulted through soft whispers, yet Harry didn’t care.

Maybe all those thinking had detached him. Because he couldn’t even loathe himself anymore. He methodically removed himself from the tight grip and thanked Malfoy, ever so emotionlessly. Then he retreated, he wanted to go over to the dorms and just start anew.

Harry had a solution. He’s obviously shit at dealing with himself. He’d just have to do everything he could to appear normal. Yes, he could do that. He could do as much as that. His friends wanted Harry back? Well he’ll give them what they want. Surely, that’s enough for them both.

“Don’t tell anyone,” was the last thing Harry said before disappearing.


	13. Discontent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco lunged forward and grabbed Potter’s hand, pulling him into Draco’s chest. Potter’s body was extremely cold and for a second he was afraid that it was a lifeless body he had been holding. But he could feel his heartbeat and his ragged breath.  
> Potter thrashed around, trying to lunge out of Draco’s iron grip. But Draco was expecting this. Draco won in restraining the suicidal git, but it didn’t boost his ego. Not at all. Sure, he had bested Potter in wrestling to keep him contained, but he noticed how skinny Potter was in his arms. How weak and half-hearted it felt. Suddenly, Draco was scared he’d crush Potter in his arms.  
> Then, as if he was a puppet, his strings were cut loose and he slumped down. Draco held onto him and the boys lowered to sit on the stone steps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh jeez, I haven't updated in ages.  
> Blasted schoolwork, I swear it will be the death of me.  
> Honestly I am so flattered by the praise I got. I was heading in really bad directions with the story then I had writer's block then I had massive assignments to do. It just had been crazy. And today it started to hail down in Australia! Bloody cold, gave me inspiration and whabam.
> 
> Comments and Kudos are always appreciated!  
> Thank you for taking the time to read my work.

Draco lunged forward and grabbed Potter’s hand, pulling him into Draco’s chest. Potter’s body was extremely cold and for a second he was afraid that it was a lifeless body he had been holding. But he could feel his heartbeat and his ragged breath. Potter tried to twist away from Draco.

“Let go of me!” he growled.

Potter thrashed around, trying to lunge out of Draco’s iron grip. But Draco was expecting this. Draco won in restraining the suicidal git, but it didn’t boost his ego. Not at all. Sure, he had bested Potter in wrestling to keep him contained, but he noticed how skinny Potter was in his arms. How weak and half-hearted it felt. Suddenly, Draco was scared he’d crush Potter in his arms.

Potter didn’t get crushed. He only scowled at Draco, his eyes glistening with tears and his cheeks were red from the cold. He stopped thrashing and drew harsh breaths. Then, as if he was a puppet, his strings were cut loose and he slumped down. Draco held onto him and the boys lowered to sit on the stone steps.

Draco had naturally waited for waterworks from Potter, but it never came. Draco lifted Potter’s cold face to inspect what the boy was thinking. But he came to no conclusion. Even though they made eye contact, it felt like he was staring into lifeless doll eyes. Potter’s jaw was set. That’s when Draco knew; the desire Harry Potter had, ran deeper than an impulse.

Potter removed Draco’s arms and raked his fingers through the dark unruly hair. Draco cleared his throat softly. Potter was dressed in his black jeans, black hoody and shoes – he was dressed for his own funeral. If it wasn’t for the heavy shadows under his eyes, the pale pallor he wore overriding his tan, hollowed cheeks and the dull sheen his green eyes took – Draco would’ve thought that he looked like a model. Puberty sure was something to be held. Gosh, he looked more lifeless than he’d ever thought he would be.

He didn’t know what he was doing. He sat down next to the boy and saw him flinch. Draco felt like a right pisspot. He knew that the feelings budding inside him weren’t lies. But he didn’t want to admit to any of it. Especially not to Potter. That day on the couch, when he had his hands and lips all over the other man’s body, Draco realised that he loved it. He loved being with Potter.

Draco had his hand outstretched to Potter’s arm but he jerked back further. His hand was uncertainly hovering in mid-air before he dropped it.

Potter’s eyes looked so far away, his hunched figure looked vulnerable and the dead expression he sported was certainly not thawing. Draco sighed. He knew something was up with the Golden boy. He didn’t expect it to go this far, however, and frankly, it scared him. Potter had always been shite at faking or covering what he was feeling. So, when this git had evaded the suspicions of most people, it worried Draco. Was Draco finally the last straw to Potter?

Potter got up and turned over to Draco. His face was astonishingly blank and drawn. The boy took a deep breath and closed his eyes before he opened them again. He stretched out a hand to Draco and tilted his head a little. Draco took the cold hand and was pulled up.

“Look,” Potter started. But he seemed to be searching for words.

Draco beat him to it, “I’m looking.”

“Right, okay. Er, I’m fine. Just a whim. I was just going about my life… star-gazing.”

“You’re an awful liar. You’re not even living.”

“Would you like a dead me, then?” Potter morbidly joked.

Draco was beyond angry. He stood up abruptly, in front of the green-eyed boy.

“Potter, you’re being a bloody cunt.” Draco would never use that word, but the rage was unyielding. “You have everything you could ever hope for! Other people have it bad from the war, Potter. It’s not just you. Don’t mope about just because I rejected you. Don’t throw away what most people had hoped for since the war!”

Potter’s green eyes flashed in irritation and his cheeks were blotted with red.

“You think I don’t think of them?” The boy stood up, raising his voice. “You think that I’m so wonderful and privileged that I can even think of throwing myself of a cliff and not feel guilty? I _know_ the consequences, why do you think I came as far as I have now? Malfoy, I’m going to be good now! What more could you want? What more could _they_ want?

“I know how fucking shitty I am. I hate this fucking self-pity party that I constantly have over me. I hate having to rely on stupid pills just to get me through the day. Don’t think that I’m about to off myself because of _you_. You know what? I hate knowing that somewhere along the way I fell for you, _hard_.” Potter was breathing heavily. “Don’t fucking lecture me on anything.”

Draco was stunned into silence. So, the Chosen One thinks of himself as weak. He now knew that the black-haired man had constantly struggled to be the perfect hero, but resented himself for the after effects of war. It was only natural. But Harry Potter was always a sucker for pain and being the martyr. And one thing he has learnt, Harry Potter was in love with him.

“I didn’t even want to be in Hogwarts. This was a bad idea from the start. I don’t even fucking know _why_ I came back.” He tousled his hair, those green eyes were wild and looked mildly insane. Potter moved extremely fast, back to his dorms. Draco was too disoriented to stop Potter and coerce him to explain before Potter fled. He looked down at his outstretched hand and instantly missed the company of his old school crush.

 

\--

 

Gripping his bedsheets, he cursed at himself. Harry hadn’t been able to sleep ever since he got on that bloody train. Every being of him was pulled out of any peace as he heard the frightened yells of people in the corridors. He thought peace would be brought over him by being in Hogwarts, but all he’s gotten was even worse anxiety and terrible nights.

In the day, he’d either be cornered by adoring people or vengeful and bitter ones. He’d already felt what it was like to be hexed for something he had no control over. People die, that’s what happens in war. He knows the pain. Christ, he’s lost so many people that he could be considered as someone knowledgeable in the topic. He too, had become vengeful and bitter. But he wasn’t about to ponder on that. Not anymore.

Harry had figured that being someone so swallowed by grief was not the way to live. Sure, he was barely living now, but at the very least he tried his hardest to fight through it. He had Teddy, his friends, his colleagues – he wasn’t about to throw away what he had. He wasn’t about to solely focus on what he didn’t have.

In fact, if he didn’t have parents, then he was about to become one for Lupin. If he lost his godfather, then he was one to Lupin. If he had lost tens of his friends, then he would care for those who he still had. Moping about life wasn’t the way to go and Harry had so meticulously made sure he wouldn’t give up. But it was hard. So hard.

The nightmares that came to him was unbearable, leaving him to drink Dreamless Sleep almost on a regular basis. He was a few drinks away from overdosing and having serious repercussions. But did it stop him from thinking to drink it tonight? No, it didn’t.

Harry opened his curtains a little to grab a bottle of the Potion. Staring at the brown bottle, he had gotten out his three pills as well. The pills were prescription medications for Harry’s mental state. One bottle provided pills which calmed down his nerves, but it made him unhelpfully groggy and slow. The other, which Harry thought was completely unnecessary, helped him with depression. The third were anxiety pills.

It helped, but Harry just didn’t like the thought of having to depend on substances to get through the day. It felt unnatural and weak, and Harry never liked those feelings – especially the helplessness he was faced with after being drugged up. Though he always took it regularly, never wanting to come down much broken than he already was. When Harry picked up the pieces, he was never going to let it shatter again.

Washing the pills down with the Potion, he instantly felt the slowing of his brain. The feel of clouds and pure vacancy flushed out the thoughts plaguing his mind and he was soon drifting away with a light heart and head. He didn’t have any dreams that night and it was the most peaceful he’s ever had it. The last thing Harry consciously made a note of was to get some more Dreamless Sleep from Madam Pomfrey

***

Harry woke up to the dread of Monday. He thinks that was one of the hardest thing to do each morning, getting out of bed. If it was up to him, he wouldn’t get out of bed at all. But he needed to eat and go about his day like a normal person.

The headache settled in like a dumb pounding every time he sat up. It always happened. Rubbing his temples a few times, Harry opened his bed curtains and let sunshine in. It blinded Harry. He searched for his glasses on the bedside table and knocked over a bottle, hearing it smash on the floor.

Cursing, he dropped to the floor. It was a very bad idea to do such a thing, because he stepped right into glass shards, stringing out more profanities from his mouth. He shoved his glasses up the bridge of his nose and saw the constant stream of red flowing from his foot and the palm of his right hand. Thank Merlin he was a leftie.

Groaning, he took his wand and flicked it over the smashed glass, fixing it like new and siphoning off the water that it contained. He looked over to the bloody body parts and quickly smoothed his wand over the cuts. The blood stayed but the skin knitted itself closed, providing soft pink scars behind.

He held his bloody hand close to his bare chest and went to stand, cleaning up the spilled red on his bed and floor. Malfoy came in to see a very messed up Harry and blood covering him. Harry didn’t spare a moment at the blonde, continuing what he was doing. The presence of Malfoy caused Harry’s heart to beat especially fast. Bloody hell.

He swiped off the last of the drops and went to his trunk to get out some fresh clothes. A plain shirt and ripped jeans would do for Harry. He turned around to see Malfoy still rooted at the same spot, gaping at Harry. He felt self-conscious all the sudden and scowled at him. Agitated, he snapped.

“What, Malfoy?”

His expression sobered and a smooth, hard mask laid over his face. “Nothing, Potter.”

Harry rolled his eyes and went off to the bathroom. It was until he saw the mirror did he realise he had slept with just his black pants on. He usually was pretty unrestrained in his old Gryffindor dorms; his roommates were the same. Harry hung his head in embarrassment and disdain. If only Harry was a bit more filled out than this ghastly figure.

He still scrawny, although he got his wish granted and grew a few more inches, he was still a comparatively short lad to the other blokes at Hogwarts. He had dark circles underneath his eyes and wore a grey tinge to his tanned skin. His hair flew in every direction and he looked very much like his fifteen-year-old self. The only differences were just the scars that littered his body.

He washed the remaining droplets of red and washed his face. Pulling the shirt and jeans, he overlaid it with his robes and a black scarf. His hair would have to do. Getting out of the bathroom, he spotted that Malfoy was still there, sitting on Harry’s desk chair.

Harry walked closer but never acknowledged the presence of the blonde. He simply got his three tablets and washed it down with the bottled water he always had beside his bed. When Harry finished taking all of them, he felt slow and tranquil.

Putting down the bottles of pills, he gripped his books and shoved it inside of his bag. Mental note; get Hermione’s material as his was shit. Turning around, Harry found himself seeing Malfoy blocking his way. In his hand was the vial of Dreamless Sleep. Once again, the prick looked angry at Harry. What had he done now?

“How long have you been consuming this?” Malfoy questioned Harry.

Harry felt slower than usual and knitted his eyebrows together. Leaning in the letters, he gave it a quick over and shrugged.

“No, tell me.” The blonde insisted.

“Malfoy, why would you want to know? Why would you even care?”

“Don’t fight it, Potter. Anyone would want an explanation from a suicide attempt,” Malfoy spat.

Harry didn’t respond for long, the silence drawing out. Harry took a deep breath that caught in his throat. He closed his eyes and threw his head up to the ceiling. A concerned Malfoy was endearing to Harry and he didn’t like it. Not one bit. It feels bad. It didn’t take long before Harry’s glassy eyes were opened and directed at a freckle on Malfoy’s neck.

“It’s only been a couple of weeks. Madam Pomfrey said that if I were to keep drinking it, the repercussions could be irreversible.”

“Stop it, then.”

“Right.” Harry had no fight in him. He would be good, he wouldn’t do anything to harm himself and others. He promised. He’ll be well behaved from now on. No unnecessary drugs, he’d stick to the ones he had. Maybe he could get Muggle sleeping pills. Ones that wouldn’t react badly to the prescription shit that he had.

Feeling as if the brief exchange was done, he stepped around Malfoy and gone off to the Great Hall. He’ll have to trust Malfoy that the Ferret wouldn’t say anything unnecessary about him. Especially to his friends.

Harry didn't see the longing look Malfoy gave him.


	14. Being gay for another

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh fuck, Draco was very gay for Harry Potter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> after 11am GMT on this day, September 1st, 2017 Harry Potter will officially be over and yet we’ll still be here like the losers we are - incorrect-harry-potter-quotes
> 
> I wanted to post this chapter in regards to the official end of the Harry Potter timeline by the book ending. erugheirbgveirlbgvqeiurghqeru;ongvaeij;rghiu;gv;eilnjvrjlbgvr

Potter wasn’t eating at breakfast. He had been pushing around a pile of eggs on his plate for ages. Those vivid green eyes didn’t flit away when Draco caught Potter staring because he simply wasn’t looking. _Look at me_ , Draco willed Potter. The black-haired boy just shifted in his seat before slouching lower. Granger shot a dirty look at Draco and began to talk animatedly to Potter.

The boy turned his head and put on his best smile. It was fake. Draco knew it was. The laugh that accompanied that grin was also detached. Nothing about it sounded joyful and beautiful anymore. To Draco’s ears, they were hollow and just an echo of Potter’s soulful laugh. The way his body would shake and keel over, wiping at the corners of his eyes. This felt like an imposter trying to act like the Golden boy.

Nothing about the Golden boy seemed so golden anymore. It was like a delicate piece of artwork that had been worn down by the surroundings. Faded and, ultimately, blank. It held none of that splash of vibrant red that had been its trademark. It was more of a jaded maroon. Just another bland artwork done by unoriginal artists.

But somehow, Draco could see that Potter was trying. He was trying for others, not for himself. Underneath all those smiles and warmth was a boy, clawing his way out of the dark, helping himself with red pills and phials of Calming Draughts. Like a stray cat, fooling others into thinking they were a big lion. Protecting all those he could from harm.

The food on his plate was often untouched, but it always vanished at the end of meal times. Draco watched closer. He discovered that Potter had vanished parts of his food when he though nobody was looking, then he would smile over at Granger or Weaslette or Weasel. Anyone, really. As if to assure them that he was fine and eating and well.

Potter continued to smile, his eyes slightly glazed over. Draco saw no vulnerabilities in Potter. He was like fire, struggling to keep himself alight.

Eventually, Draco’s stare seemed to burn into the forehead of the Golden boy and green eyes were focused on grey. There was a silent exchange between them. Draco cocked his eyebrow, as if to ask how the boy was doing. Potter gave him a contained smile and his gaze flitted away. If it was even possible, whatever had caught his attention made Potter even paler than he was before.

Draco turned to where he was looking and saw Zabini walking towards Draco. The dark-skinned man was ashy and had a pained look on his face. Draco grimaced at him, willing him to go away. But alas, Blaise kept moving towards Draco – there were tear tracks on his cheeks.

“Draco,” he croaked. “I need to talk to you.”

“Piss off, you massive sod.” Draco hissed back.

“Please, you need to hear me out. I’m sorry for everythi –”

“Why are you apologising to me?” Draco stood up and pushed Blaise to walk out the Great Hall. he hadn’t told anyone about the incident because Potter didn’t seem to want to talk about it. He had to respect the one secret he had. It was blatantly obvious how Potter’s life was paraded around on papers. Sure, it was the fake Potter, but he didn’t need to have all his secrets tumbled out.

“Go apologise to Potter, the actual person you’ve hurt.” Draco continued once they were out in a deserted corridor.

“I can’t, his friends won’t let me past him.” Blaise was struggling with something. “I- I didn’t know what went over me. I was- it was like I was in a trance. I couldn’t keep my head, everything felt so wrong but I was convinced in the haze that it was all right. A- and Potter, he…”

“What?” Draco spat, more curious than loathing.

“He said that it was best if they all forgot and moved on.” Blaise gripped Draco’s arm tightly. “Draco, he asked his friends to pass that down to me and now I feel like absolute shite because Potter just needed to be a bloody saint. That was as much as being forgiven. He never wanted to see me again, nor be near me, but it was much better than anything I could ever ask for.”

“So?” Draco didn’t see the point of having this conversation.

“So, I’m going to out myself. I’ll tell the Headmistress.”

Draco’s eyes widened. “Blaise, you’re going to get yourself expelled.”

“Exactly.” Blaise squeezed his arm one more time before folding it. “I can’t continue school with the knowledge I’ve almost raped Potter. I’m going away – overseas, most likely Australia or somewhere far away from England. I’ll be building my life there and it’ll be fine because Potter won’t have to see me anymore.”

Draco realised that Blaise had already planned further than he imagined. He was a little hurt that Blaise never talked to him for a while, but he supposed it was cause of Draco shutting his friend out in the first place.

Then, it struck Draco. While he was treated well enough for being an ex-Death Eater, nobody was willing to talk to him if not Pansy, Daphne, Millicent nor Blaise. Theo went off to France, doing some academic mastery. The girls didn’t hang like Blaise did. They had their own schedule and activities. If Blaise was gone, then Draco was as good as alone.

“It’s okay, Draco.” Blaise bumped his fist at Draco’s shoulder. “You’ll be fine.”

“I bloody well hope so. I still don’t like what you did”

“I know that. Hell, even _I_ don’t like what I did. I _hated_ it. I fucking _loathe_ myself for it.” Blaise wrung his hands in the air. “I wish that I never did what I had done. I mean, why would I stoop so low as to feed Potter a fucking Weasley love potion to bang him? It doesn’t make sense to me, but I still did it.”

“Madness.” Draco croaked out.

“I’ll miss you and the others.” Blaise dropped his hand and smiled at Draco.

“I fucking hate you, but I’ll miss you too.”

Blaise chuckled and left. Draco was in the dark of the corridor. The torch-lit walls were dim and cold. It served no comfort to Draco. He supposed he should hate Blaise more, but he really was his only closest friend. Potter would come a close second, but he’s already fucked that up.

 

\--

 

_“Cedric!” Amos Diggory howled._

_He was clutching at the limp body of a copper-haired boy. His skin was deathly pale, his eyes lifeless and his Hufflepuff tournament shirt were in shreds._

_Amos flicked his eyes to Harry, pinning him down with an unforgiving glare. He brought the body closer to his chest and got up._

_“You…” his voice barely contained the fury behind it. “You KILLED MY SON!”_

_Harry backed off, trying to explain that it was Pettigrew. It wasn’t him, he didn’t mean to._

_“You brought Voldemort back! You gave him your blood! Cedric is dead because of you. Go and kill yourself!” Amor ranted at the top of his lungs. He raised his wand, pointing it directly to Harry’s chest._

_“Avada Kedavra!”_

_The flash of green was the last thing Harry saw._

 

Harry woke up with a nasty jolt and sweat dripping down his temples. His throat was dry; he’d been screaming in his sleep. Thank Godric, he put up silencing wards around his bed almost every night now. That dream was a recurring one. He’d stop drinking the Dreamless Sleep potion, now his dreams came in vividly, twice as long and as much.

He got up, put a Disillusionment Charm over himself and out of his bed. Tightly shutting the curtains, he pulled out the invisibility cloak from underneath all the junk in his trunk (haha, I would just like to distract everyone from this narrative because of my great ‘junk in his trunk’ line, right, continue). Donning himself under it, Harry stalked off from the bed with several bottles of Firewhisky and phial of Draught of the Living Death.

He went out the common room and into the corridors, where the portrait had been grunting in confusion and annoyance that they’d been disturbed from sleep by _nothing_. And that night, just like every other night, was no exception.

Harry was often in the Astronomy Tower, looking over the edge. Every night, he would clear his mind. His trembling hands weren’t from the height or the thought of plunging down. The wind was rather strong and it chilled Harry to the bone. He was also reminded bitterly of Dumbledore. _The spot where Dumbledore died – follow Headmaster’s footsteps_ , Harry thought.

Harry sat down with his legs dangling over the edge and cracked open a bottle of Firewhisky (again, congrats me for ‘cracking open a cold one with the boys’), the first gulp sent fire through his lungs. Hogwarts scenery was really a sight to see. All the memories of his first-year flying came back. The sensation of the broom humming under his grip and following his every command.

 He knew it was useless wishing his parents were physically with him, yet he can’t help but imagine what it would’ve been like if they were there. Would his father praise his flying abilities? Would his mother hug his nightmares away? All he knew for sure, was that based on the love he felt from Remus and Sirius, his parents had to be twice as much.

Thinking about Remus and Sirius gave him a painful pang in the middle of his chest. He racked a sob and tears fell down his face. He missed them a whole lot. He missed the twinkle in his headmaster’s eyes, Dumbledore. He missed the Fred Weasley and always cursed himself every time he saw George try to comfort himself when he visited the Burrow. He couldn’t even look in the mirror.

Harry drank the bottle with vigour, drowning everything in the burn that was welcomed in his throat, and Harry didn’t stop until halfway. His head, though it was only one and a half bit of the alcohol, began to slowly pound. He always had been a lightweight. As he continuously drank, he thought again.

He missed Tonks and her ever changing appearance. Tonks and Lupin with their child, Teddy. He suddenly felt as if he was looking at himself. Teddy was now without parents from so young because of Voldemort. And it was so unfair for Teddy to be lonely.

It was his fault, all Harry’s bloody fault for not giving himself in faster. Then the whole event could’ve been avoided! His hands bunched into fists and he smashed his fist down on the stone floor. The bottle was in pieces, the contents spilling over his fingers and bits of glass from the neck had imbedded themselves inside of Harry’s palm.

Harry had to keep reminding himself that it was no use to wallow in the grief now. What’s done is done. He flexed his fingers and felt another jolt of intense pain go through his hand, his eyes watered, before it dulled into sharper continuous pain throbs. He picked off the glass and opened another bottle, throwing it all down his throat.

Harry stood back up on the edge unsteadily. The wind ruffled his hair and he finally looked down onto the ground, a bottle in his hand. Harry wouldn’t do anything reckless. No, he wouldn’t. He’s going to be good now. Harry giggled. He was flirting with Death and Death had missed him. It would’ve been far enough that if he were to just _step_ -

“Potter?”

Harry whirled around to see Malfoy ascending the steps. His blonde hair was tousled in the wind and he wore thick robes. If only Harry had been smart enough to do that, then he wouldn’t be chattering in the cold. Harry’s heart spiked up and continued to beat at a rather fast pace. This was the effect Draco Malfoy had on Harry. And he hated it.

He wanted to forget about Malfoy. Forget these feelings, move on, _please_. The man isn’t interested in you, why was Harry so hung up on him? Of course, he knew the answer. He wished it wasn’t true, though.

 

\--

 

Potter was standing near the edge of the Tower. In the moonlight, Potter looked almost ethereal. His face was shallow and the circles underneath his eyes just seemed to grow darker. His bronze skin was sickly grey and his green eyes seemed too big for his face. The jet-black hair was wind-swept and he only wore his sleepshirt and short trousers. There was a bottle gripped on one hand.

Draco frowned. It was far too cold to be wearing nothing that would protect against the cold and alcohol mixed with plunging depths weren’t good combinations. Somewhere inside him, he recognised those mad eyes as his own. It was like his reflection staring back at him. Just like sixth year.

But right now, Draco was completely lost. He wanted to comfort the boy who lived. No, it wasn’t just that, this was the boy who stood up for him. Who pushed him to his limits and made himself realise that he was to be the decider of his own fate. And what was Potter? He was a prophecy. A boy shaped to bring good to the world.

Potter sighed and sat down, his legs swinging at the edge. The world seemed to have disappointed perfect Saint Potter. Draco walked closer to man. He sat down cross legged next to the Chosen One. It wasn’t until he paid attention that he noticed the same tear marked tracks down his alcohol flushed cheeks.

It felt like forever, the silence that went on. Potter had glanced once over at Draco. That was the only interaction until Draco went to reach out for his hand. Potter allowed it and took another swig out his bottle. There were two empty others and one full one.

“Expecting company?” Draco asked, his head jerked to the last bottle.

“If you’d like.” Potter reached out and took the neck before settling it between them.

A little while later into his bottle, Potter held up a little phial. He set it against the moonlight and grinned.

“Malfoy, don’t you ever feel like… _giving up_?” he said, still grinning.

Draco was caught off guard. Giving up? What was he giving up exactly? What made Potter say that?

“No, Pott- “

“I feel a little empty, to be completely honest with you. I’ve really no ambitions. I don’t know what to _do_ ,” his voice cracked, “I don’t particularly have the motivation to keep going through either. I just figured that maybe – since it’s closing the end of the year – I’d complete school. I’d be there for Hermione and Ron, and whoever shall wish it. But it’s a little tiring, you know? So, I thought, maybe Hermione and Ron and all those people would come to an understanding.

“But then, I thought harder, who would take care of my would-be son? There wasn’t anyone else except the other guardians. I’m his godfather. When Sirius was in Azkaban and had been through all those hardships, he overcame it and became a great father figure for me. I want to thank you for those countless times you’ve saved me here. I would most definitely be dead if it weren’t for you.”

“Then stop being so careless.”

“I’m trying.” Potter turned to him, his grin was morphed into a grimace, tears shone in his eyes that were bright from the Firewhisky. “I’m trying so hard. How do people do it? How do _you_ do it?”

Draco took Potter’s hand again. “I’ll tell you how, if you want to hear it. Mind you, it’ll have some recounts of my personal life.”

“You like talking about yourself.” Potter said, the alcohol in his bloodstream allowed unmasked amusement in his being.

“Well, you aren’t wrong.” Draco settled further on the cold, stone floor. “I deal with it because, if it weren’t for others, I would be gone to the world. I have to acknowledge those who protected me by living my life, unbounded by the fear. When I had to take the Dark Mark, I took it with pride and full knowledge of what it meant. But as I continued my tasks, I felt conflicted. None of my morals matched to what the Dark Lord wanted. He set me to fix the Vanishing Cabinet, I fixed it.

“I did everything, because I was afraid. I was a coward who saw no other choice. I didn’t want to see my mother being tortured for my own mishap, or my own foolishness. I intended to torture you in the lavatory that day, Potter,” – Potter’s eyes hardened – “I was distraught enough to be able to set the Cruciatus Curse. But as we both know, that didn’t go about as I expected.” Draco chuckled.

“Yeah, no shit. Because _I_ was the one who almost killed you. I’m more of a horrible man than you are. I bet you’ve never even killed a person before.” Potter had silent tears gleaming in the light.

“I tortured people. I made them suffer. I had to do it.” Draco felt like he was the one being comforted.

“You were threatened.” Potter squeezed their linked hands. “It wasn’t your fault. If it makes you feel any better, I’ve also tortured. I’ve killed, I’ve broken laws. I did that all since my First year here.” Potter took a shuddering breath in. “I don’t like it here.”

Draco let the words sink in. He knew Potter was a martyr and had willingly accepted his fate. Threw himself at danger to protect everybody else. Hell, he’d even protected Draco and his family which resulted in Potter being tortured on ends. He was there, he saw. Potter tried to grab back Granger at his mansion and Bellatrix hit him with the Cruciatus Curse. Bellatrix liked the way she sent the Chosen One into pain, so she kept him and let Granger stay along with Lovegood and Weasley.

“Neither do I,” Draco whispered back.

For a fleeting moment, their eyes locked with each other. Tired green met with sober grey. The current between them was undeniable.

It was Draco who leaned in first, just as he always had. He brushed the disarray of hair out of Potter’s face and brought cold lips to warm ones. Potter tasted like a strong brew of honey flavoured Firewhisky. It burned, but it was heady and Draco craved for more.

Potter slipped a hand around Draco’s neck and they both pulled each other in. The harsh frozen wind did not disturb the men in their embrace. They drew each other’s heats out. Potter gasped into Draco’s mouth and he slipped a tongue in.

If Potter’s lips tasted good, then inside his mouth was absolutely _celestial_. It was hot and tasted like alcohol inside of Potter’s mouth. But somehow, Potter made the bitter taste of alcohol into something sweet and something Draco wanted more from. It was an unhelpful addiction.

Potter raked a hand through Draco’s and he groaned.

They were broken by Potter shoving hard against Draco. His face was one of mild horror. His lips were red and wet, his cheeks redder than before and his eyes were buzzing. Draco felt fireworks exploding through his chest. _He_ had been the one who made Potter look so alive.

But those eyes were tinged with sadness, distress and anger. Potter got to his feet.

“Don’t fuck with me, Malfoy.” He growled. “Just because I said I fell for you, doesn’t mean you should mock me for it. Does it please you to see me all messed up because of you? Yeah, I’m fucking gay for you. Doesn’t mean you should ridicule me for it. Stop leading me around. Friends don’t kiss like that, Malfoy. That’s gay.”

Potter turned to leave, stumbling over his own feet.

For a moment, Draco was only surprised by Potter’s outburst. Harry Potter was gay only for Draco. It sent smugness and he wanted to preen at the declaration. But at the same time, he was also accused of being gay. Draco won’t deny he’s been interested in some men before, but _Potter?_

Oh fuck, Draco was very gay for Harry Potter.


	15. Embracing Happiness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Potter looked down bashfully, “I know it’s daft, but it helps. Hermione and Ron’s been letting me trace everywhere, even on their backs, so I can take my mind off things. If I don’t,” a sheen covered his emerald eyes, “then I resort to my trusty blue pills.”
> 
> Draco softly shook his head, “It isn’t daft. It’s just how you work around it. Glad to have you back, mope free, Potter.”
> 
> He smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's going to be smutty soon. it's just fluff now.

Harry woke up to find himself in an alcove, on the hard ground. There was great throbbing at his head and he felt the urge to retch. His throat was parched and his body was frozen in the unforgiving morning castle feels. It’s almost Christmas and he was about to meet up with Teddy. His little Lupin.

Getting up slowly, Harry felt around for his wand, but found that he didn’t have it with him. That was a strange occurrence as Harry rarely left anywhere without his wand. There was his invisibility cloak with him and a crusted over bleeding hand. Harry was unsure what happened last night. Surely, only three bottles of Firewhisky shouldn’t render him without his memories? Ah, it was disadvantageous being so susceptible to alcohol.

Harry tumbled out of the alcove, the sun was rising in brilliant oranges and whites. It was about to be a lovely day. Snow settled in from last night, the cold struck Harry even more. He threw on his invisibility cloak, pattering off to the common room.

When he opened the door to his dorm room, he found Malfoy already sitting up on the desk chair next to Harry’s bed. Harry frowned in puzzlement before the gloomy man. He had his arms crossed on his chest and a pout set in place. It struck something in Harry, but he didn’t want to acknowledge it.

“It’s snowing.”

Harry blinked at the man sitting. He glanced around the room and found that everybody was either still sleeping in or gone off to breakfast. Looking towards the window, Harry spotted the snowflakes beginning to fall. Staring over the white wonder, Harry replied:

“Yeah.”

Then, something bizarre occurred. Harry had always loved the snow but being hunted down in unfamiliar woods and terrains during war had spoilt the brilliant white display with memories of unrelenting frost and near death. It didn’t seem fair, however, that Harry already didn’t feel so good at the start of his day. He didn’t want to hamper anything with Teddy Lupin.

That’s right, Harry promised he would be good and find happiness. It did no good to skirt around his own potential. If he feared being burnt through his emotional development again… well, it’s not as if he hadn’t felt it before. He’d been denied plenty of times. When Sirius held out his hand for Harry, he accepted it without blinking. Then that was stripped from him. Remus was taken. Everything Harry thought would last was taken. Even his sodding owl!

But it’s alright. Harry had to calm down and see the positives in his life. The snow might be tainted with red, but once upon a time it was dazzling. Every coat of snow was pure and clean. And Harry must realise not everything bad would come out of him caring – of him opening his heart up to others. Once he’s learnt to trust and accept, to accept his importance in other’s lives, then he can set out for happiness. Even if it meant Draco Malfoy was one of those happiness.

So, really, was it such an impossible thing what Harry said next?

“Want to join me to Hogsmeade, Malfoy?” his brilliant green eyes shone down on sparkling grey. “I’m meeting my godson, Teddy, you’ve met him once.”

Malfoy stared shocked and puzzled, but otherwise did not decline. “Of course, Potter.”

Harry gave Malfoy a tight smile before throwing down his invisibility cloak and gathering up a white shirt, black jeans and a green sweater. Harry discreetly bundled his clean pair of pants underneath all his clothes. Turning on his heels, he went for the showers.

 _Teddy is coming, calm down, Teddy is coming_. Harry turned on the hot water, _my little Lupin is coming_. Washing off any evidence of his hangover and his ill demeanour, he slathered soap everywhere, vehemently wishing he wouldn’t look so ghastly. The shampoo smelt like grapes and strawberries. Teddy loved the smell of Harry’s shampoo, declaring that it was like the candies Harry gave him.

He rinsed all the suds out, and methodically dried himself. Brushing his teeth, he went off about his hair, casting a Drying spell to help it. Of course, this was still Harry Potter’s hair. Nothing really made it lay flat or become tidy. If he was drenched, then it’d be plastered to his head.

Harry was crossing the bathroom when the door opened to admit a very weary looking Zabini. He froze, toothbrush in his mouth and towel dangerously low on his hips. Zabini only had an apologetic look before he wiped down his face and sighed.

“I’m so sorry,” he started. “I didn’t mean what I did.”

“Come to ambush me again, Zabini? I thought we agreed on not interacting again.” Harry’s voice was as frozen as he was.

There was anger and desperation flashing in those eyes. “It’s a public bath, Potter.” He snapped, but his next words came out softer. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

Harry was still rooted to his spot, his hands clutching one side of his towel, not daring it to fall. The brush was in his free hand and there were probably paste all over his mouth, but it didn’t matter. What mattered was the crumbling figure of this former Slytherin.

Zabini braced himself against one of the shower stalls, his forehead touching the tiled walls.

“I’m leaving Hogwarts, you won’t have to see me anymore.” He said quietly.

Harry’s jaw dropped in surprise, causing some toothpaste to dribble out his chin. Wiping it away, Harry trembled. Zabini was going to be away from him. He won’t have to see this man ever again. He should feel wretched that he caused a student to leave… no, he didn’t owe Zabini shit. After everything that Harry had done and that the other male had done? Harry deserved to feel relieved.

“Yeah,” Harry willed weakly.

As if sensing the relief, Zabini cracked a sad smile and disappeared.

The day was starting to turn out good. Not only does he have to share a room, nor a class with the man again, but he was about to meet Teddy. His lovely, precious godson. Harry wouldn’t hesitate to use an Unforgivable to anybody who hurt his little Lupin. The sooner Christmas hols arrived, the sooner he got to go back hugging the little boy.

Pulling on his shirt, sweater and jeans, Harry slipped out of the bathroom and saw Malfoy already impeccably dressed in an attire similar to his, only he wore grey sweater and proper black trousers. Harry couldn’t help but think that, if they walked side by side, it would look as if they intentionally dressed to match. Shaking off the warm feeling in his chest, Harry went to retrieve a leather pouch from his trunk and clasped a plain black cloak around his shoulders.

Malfoy also had the same standard black cloak and held the door open for Harry. The warm feeling grew wider. _It’s the happiness_ , Harry thought, _embrace it you fool_. With a quick smile and nod, they walked side by side in compatible silence to the Great Hall.

“So, what brought this on, Potter?” Malfoy said as they neared the doors.

“I’ve come to embrace happiness.” Harry said nonchalantly. “And you happen to be one of them.”

Harry didn’t realise the profound implications of his words, nor did he see Malfoy’s overindulging appearance.

The Great Hall was decorated with shiny tinsel and magical snowflakes which evaporated before it touched the food laid out on the grand tables. There were green and red clashing everywhere and baubles which floated up in the air. A large tree had been placed near the corner of the teacher’s table, but it was bare. They really have started on the Christmas decorations early.

Seeing his friends over at the Gryffindor table, Harry broke out a small smile. It wasn’t great or anything, but it showed sincerity that he’s never had the energy to muster before. All because he embraced his on self-worth and happiness (and maybe because Malfoy was by his side the whole time). Harry strode over to the table.

He slipped next to Hermione, Malfoy sitting beside Harry and took out a slice of toast.

“Blimey, I’m starved,” Harry exclaimed, buttering up the toast.

“That’s what happens when you don’t eat regular meals,” Hermione scolded Harry.

A sheepish blush crept up his face and he nibbled on his piece. Hermione still had the scowl etched onto her face, but it was all for show and her eyes visibly softened at the health of Harry.

 

\--

 

Granger shot a look at Draco, quizzical and demanding. He shook his head and mouthed ‘later’ to her. With a disappointed slump of her shoulders, she went back to talking with Potter.

“So, Harry. You’re meeting Teddy today?” she started.

Potter brightened up so dazzling, it made Draco smile in fond affection. “Yeah! I can’t wait until I go back for Christmas, you have no idea how long I’ve been planning his present for.”

“You know that you yourself might be the best present Teddy could ever have?”

 _Having Potter as a present would be the best present anybody would ever have_ , Draco inserted in his head. Granger seemed pleased with Harry’s development from his usual impassive and calm demeanour to this blushing, awkward wreck that was Harry bloody Potter.

“Well, it helps to give out toys and trinkets to my godson.” Potter smiled. “I want to give him everything I never had.”

“You’re going to be a positively doting godfather,” Draco tutted.

“You bet. I’d give him the world.” Something in Potter’s eyes shone so brightly that Draco almost shielded his eyes. It was just so blinding to see the life back in the emerald orbs. Draco chuckled and began to dig at his porridge.

Draco was certainly confused as to why Potter had opened up to him after so long. Not just him, but to his friends as well. The warmth starting to spread from Potter was extremely comforting and one that Draco didn’t even know he missed nor knew. But now, he had tasted what it was like for the boy to withdraw, Potter was refilling his heat and friendliness everywhere.

Potter was still quiet, but Draco could sense the difference. Before, he was cold and had a barrier as he listened, but now it was like the boy was engaged and truly at peace. Well, maybe not at peace, slightly more content with what he has.

Draco was spooning a bite into his mouth when Potter shuffled closer over to his side. It felt like when they were still bonded. He had the habit of seeking other people’s warmth, yet due to his state, he never got it. Draco inconspicuously moved back against Potter, returning the pressure.

“Have you finished your essay?” the Weasel asked with his mouth full.

“Yeah, I’m quite on top of my work, funnily enough.” Potter’s eyes were crinkled at the corners as he laughed. The sound was freeing and it reverberated to Draco’s body. “Without somebody trying to kill me this year, I’m able to concentrate.”

“But you still don’t pay attention in Potions?” Draco teased.

Potter elbowed Draco playfully and returned to casually leaning at his side. He had his left leg tucked in and was absentmindedly tracing patterns on Granger’s outstretched arm. Draco’s seen Potter do this at the beginning of this year and it drove him mad every time he was the one susceptible to Potter’s ticklish touches.

The raven-haired man tugged at Granger’s wrist, and in a silent understanding, turned over her arm so Potter could continue drawing invisible patterns. Draco watched, fascinated, as he tried to guess what he was drawing. There was an upward stroke at the inside of Granger’s wrist, a squiggly circle nearing the palm of her hand. Potter ran his fingers carefully down the line, weaving it in and out.

Draco recognised the pattern with sick familiarity. Potter had drawn a Dark Mark on the girl. His fingers then flitted toward his own wrist, the one where Bellatrix had so cruelly carved in. He understood. This was his way of coping, of rehabilitation from his dark spot. By the sad look on Granger’s eyes, Draco could only chance that she knew all the time. How had Draco been so blind?

Potter sighed and grabbed a hold of the closest and newest arm he found – Draco’s. The blonde man let him, surrendering his left arm to the boy. Potter deliberated for a second before he touched the crook of Draco’s elbow. He traced around the arm, used his nails to softly imprint curved lines and smiled. Draco saw the boy touch to his own covered arm. It was a flower.

Glancing up, Potter caught his eye and blushed furiously at his doodling. Draco wouldn’t have it.

“I like the flower,” he murmured lowly, just for Potter to hear.

“I- I,” Potter started.

“Why do you draw on people’s arms so much?” Draco inquired.

“Uh, relaxes me I suppose,” Potter shrugged. “Like, if I draw on you, you don’t feel the pain therefore I don’t feel the pain?” the explanation ended in a question.

“What do you mean?” Draco pressed on. In all the weeks – months – that he was bonded with Potter, he never shared any meaningful topics with Draco.

“When I run my fingers on your arm,” – Potter ran his digit down Draco’s bare skin – “you don’t flinch or writhe or cry. That brings me a sort of peace. If I draw on strong people, and they don’t cry, then I can forget about it. If I see my fingers not making a single scar, a single mark, then it takes my mind off the ones I’ve got.”

Potter looked down bashfully, “I know it’s daft, but it helps. Hermione and Ron’s been letting me trace everywhere, even on their backs, so I can take my mind off things. If I don’t,” a sheen covered his emerald eyes, “then I resort to my trusty blue pills.”

Draco softly shook his head, “It isn’t daft. It’s just how _you_ work around it. Glad to have you back, mope free, Potter.”

He smiled.


	16. Confessions and Realisations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The kiss was slow and intense, but the intensity did not stem from lust nor was it for that purpose, it was from their need to connect on an emotional level. It gave them an anchor to what was real. To such broken people, this was how they knew to confirm their feelings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUESS WHAT, it's the end. I'll be having an extra chapter that will contain pure smut. I just need the mental preparation for it since I'm such a cringe bed writer. Anyways, one more chapter and this will be done. Thank you for reading and being here with my adventures. I have no life.
> 
> Signed - A.N

Draco was walking down the snowy terrain with Potter by his side. They were both wearing black cloaks with the hood drawn up. You’d think that their trip would be at the very least awkward considering, but so far it has been pleasant.

They talked about Quidditch, their years of playing Seeker, Draco’s outrage in Potter for having believed Granger that he bought his way onto the team, Potter laughing at the impossibly haughty tone Draco got and Draco melting at the sound of Potter’s freedom slipping from those pink lips.

Somewhere along their conversation, Potter started telling stories of his conquests year after year in Hogwarts. How he’d killed Quirrell in First year – a shock to Draco. He told Draco of Granger’s impossibly smart problem-solving skills and the Weasel’s excellent beating of McGonagall’s own chess creation.

He told Draco of the Weasley twins and their youngest son saving Potter from near starvation and confinement. They put bars over the boy’s windows! Seeing Draco’s rage, Potter only nudged his arm which, oddly, sent him reeling back. Potter told Draco of Granger’s discovery within the Chamber of Secrets and how Fawkes helped him destroy the basilisk and save Ginevra Weasley.

He moved on to his third year, where people told him that Sirius Black escaped Azkaban to avenge the Dark Lord and bring him back to power. He told Draco of the bliss he found when Black was his godfather, the anger he felt when Buckbeak was sentenced to death, and the mutinous rage when he discovered Ronald’s pet rat – Scabbers, but later known as Pettigrew – had framed and betrayed Lily and James Potter, leading to his godfather’s imprisonment and his parent’s imminent death.

Draco’s eyes widened in shock and amazement when Potter told him how Granger used a Time Turner to fix every wrongdoing that year – and how he almost got snatched by a werewolf, Remus Lupin.

“Is that why the horrible bird is still alive? Even after I told my father about it?” Draco folded his arm in mock disdain.

“Hermione’s great, she is. I wouldn’t even have Sirius back then, no matter how short a time. And, hey! I got to go to Hogsmeade with his permission!”

Somehow, Potter downplayed his pivotal role in every story he told. He never got past Fourth year. He still missed and blamed himself for Diggory’s death after all these years. That was the year where Potter was thrown into the Triwizard Tournament, a plot of the Dark Lord, he was there in time with Diggory and he couldn’t do anything, he could only watch as the Killing Curse struck the late Hufflepuff.

Potter told his story in quiet hushed tones, his eyes were downcast and his hand hung still at his sides, unnaturally so.

“If it weren’t for the spell, I would’ve died then and there,” Potter breathed out in white puffs. “Great badges, by the way. ‘Potter Stinks’, bet you took ages to come up with that.”

“Of course, only the best for the worthiest competitor.” Draco turned up his nose and Potter flushed, a smile on his lips.

“So, what happened next?” Draco urged. It was fascinating hearing Potter’s tales, they seemed like they came out of a book! A book of wonders and fairy tales! A book where no normal eleven-year old children would ever be able to survive. But then again, Harry Potter was hardly a normal child.

“Next, I lost everything.” Potter said, his eyes shone treacherously. “I kept losing and I kept taking what isn’t mine, I wasn’t good enough. I prayed to whatever forces out there to help me, and my friends. Until one day, I happily gave myself.”

An old woman with a little boy in her arms greeted the men. Potter’s face broke in a wide grin as the little blue-haired tot leaned out, his arms stretched to the raven-haired man, and was swooped out of the old woman’s embrace.

Teddy Lupin’s hair changed colours. It darkened to the same jet-black as the other older male and his eyes shone bright green. It was as if Teddy was Potter’s legitimate child. If Draco didn’t know any better, he would’ve assumed. Jealousy, a wicked green-like emotion, flared in his chest at the thought of what Potter would’ve done to conceive the child. But no, it wasn’t his.

“Hi Teddy!” Potter buried his nose in the little curls, “I missed you!”

The image of a little boy, so close in appearance to Potter made Draco stir. He knew that Potter was often awkward with children, but the paternal instinct shined in him. Potter would make a great father and Draco was relieved that the unfortunate Teddy Lupin would be having him soon. He was much more relieved that he didn’t let Potter jump that night.

“Look, Ted, do you remember Draco?” Potter shifted the toddler onto his hip, stage-whispering intently to Teddy’s ear and cast a look on Draco. “Want to hold him? I know you’ve only really seen each other once – but your mother loves Teddy and he recognised you because you look as beautiful as your mother.”

Potter’s eyes widened comically as he stuttered. Andromeda Tonks, the old woman, laughed.

Taking pity on Potter’s horrified and humiliated face, Draco reached for the little boy in Potter’s arms, snuffling his face into the thick curls. He hoped he could do this with the real Harry Potter.

“Hello Teddy,” Draco said softly. Teddy Lupin’s eyes sparkled emerald before they shifted into the same stormy grey hue that Draco has. His breath was caught in his throat as he watched the little boy with the same bronzed skin and hair as the man of his interest was mixed with his own grey features. It was like Potter had a child with Draco.

“Sorry, he really likes to mimic others he finds interesting,” Potter reached for the baby and stroked the plump cheek, “he loved to mimic your mother’s eyes, or her long hair.”

“It’s spectacular,” Draco breathed.

“You must’ve seen Harry’s face when he first turned into a mini him,” Andromeda chuckled. “Gave his boyfriend a fright!”

Harry turned stiff. “We’re not together anymore, Andy. We… had a dispute.”

Draco didn’t believe Potter. He knew that Potter really cared for the boy, and he was far too much of a bad liar to pass it off as a ‘dispute’. It still irritated Draco that Potter had somebody else before himself. Sure, the Chosen One was allowed a life, but it irked him to have Potter be embraced in somebody else’s arms.

“Oh, sorry dear.” Andromeda looked momentarily sheepish before her gaze flitted over to Draco. “I’ll be going off now, promised Ted I would just drop little Teddy off.” Potter leaned into her hug, his arms wrapped around the toddler. “Good to see you healthy again, you’re doing wonders to Harry, Malfoy.” And on that note, she went off.

“Doing wonders for you, Potter,” Draco smirked at Potter, who grew red in the face.

“Sod off,” he swore, clasping the delicate ears of Teddy between his chest and his hand.

“Where are we headed?” Draco asked.

“We’ll be going to Honeydukes first, I’ve promised Teddy with tons of sweets. Then, we can go to the Three Broomsticks, if you’d like?”

“Lead the way.”

 

In Honeydukes, Potter was crouched low with a giggling baby in his arms, pointing at colourful assortments of sweets and toffies. Draco leaned lower, just above Potter’s crouched figure, to listen to the incoherent babbles of the little boy. He pointed at a lot of yellow coloured sweets, always amazed by the ones that were vibrant enough to almost look like they glowed.

“Da!” Teddy pointed at Draco.

Draco stood still, he panicked. Potter, upon seeing his face, laughed and nudged Draco’s side with his own body. Teddy kept repeating the word, always looking in between him and Potter. The eyes changed again, they were the bright emerald green. Before Draco could be disappointed in the baby for a lack of his feature, the child’s hair morphed into a much tidy, white-blonde colour. The contrast between the sun kissed skin, the green jewels and the bright hair was endearing.

“Ah, I missed Teddy’s transformations.” Potter sighed as he got out of Honeydukes, already stuffing a chewable into Teddy’s little mouth. “Once, he turned his face into a pig’s! Almost pissed myself.”

“Does he do that often?”

“Too often. He transforms into your mum a lot.” Potter frowned. “You never visited unless for that one time, but that was because I had to give you back my wand. Charmed the robes off your mother when he took on her eyes and eventually her face.”

“I’d rather not hear ‘robes off’ and _my_ ‘mother’ in the same sentence,” Draco scrunched his nose, not wanting to imagine anything.

“The beauty of not really having parents.”

They were in the Three Broomsticks, the two men ordered butterbeers and a small mug of hot chocolate for the tot. Teddy suckled on Potter’s fingers, abandoning the piles of sweets ages ago. Potter didn’t seem to mind, if anything, he looked fondly to the little baby. A look which made Draco’s heart squeeze.

“Ironic, isn’t it?” Potter said as he slid down a booth with Teddy perched on his lap. Draco sat beside him, not really wanting to sit on the opposite side. “I didn’t really have parents, but I’m going to be a dad soon. This is mental. How am I supposed to take care of him?”

Draco sensed the anxiety and panic roll of Potter in waves. He took the warm hands, a caramel glow against Draco’s pale skin.

“You’ll be a great father.” Draco deliberated.

If what he had been feeling for all of this time was truly his own, then it shouldn’t be a hard decision. But it was. Because this was not just Harry Potter, this was the boy who rejected his hand in friendship, yet still saved him from the inferno at the Room of Requirement. This was the boy who fought Draco, but still spoke in his trials. This was a boy who used a curse to harm him, but still went on to forgive Draco for all he’s done and beg for forgiveness in return.

This wasn’t just some person who Draco wouldn’t doubt he’d get over if they were through. This was Harry bloody Potter. The boy who gave and gave, never really expecting anything back because he believed that he would die that night in the Forbidden Forest. The boy who Draco so foolishly rejected after Potter gave him life and protected. The boy who fell for Draco. And, who Draco absolutely adored back.

It’s never been an easy decision when your heart was tearing itself in two, trying to reason why he didn’t deserve Potter, why he could never touch the sunlight without getting burned, why he had no right to tarnish him with darkness. But it was all so stupid because Draco was the one who dragged him up to the surface when the Saviour was drowning. He was the one who gave the Golden boy his shining coat back when the dust and grime had dulled it.

He was just scared. Scared of the intensity of his rushed feelings. But Draco found they weren’t rushed at all. They were there, deeply ingrained and misread as hatred. Whoever said hatred was a passion that can quickly turn to love, Draco would like to applaud. Because it wasn’t from pure hatred, it was just an intensity which he misinterpreted. Love under the thought of dislike. Maybe Draco did resent the Chosen One, but right now, he couldn’t care less.

So, when he leaned to hug the man with the baby in his arms, he did it with pure intentions of what Potter had said – embracing happiness.

 

\--

 

Harry was startled from his play with the babbling boy when a set of strong arms enveloped them both. Malfoy brought them closer to his chest and snuffled Harry’s hair. Being absolutely boggled and bumbling, Harry only leaned further into the warmth, patting the arm in front of him.

Teddy decided to revert his hair back to black and his eyes the stormy grey. It delighted Harry (even if he won’t admit) that Teddy looked like his own legitimate offspring, only the eyes mirrored Malfoy’s. It startled him more when he finds that he doesn’t mind it at all, quite the opposite, he loved the combination. Maybe he was a soft sap like Ginny said after all.

A surprised laugh burst through him softly. Ever since he decided to hold on to whatever happiness he had left, he felt relaxed yet taut. Like a string pulled tight, but not to the point where it would break like Harry thought he would.

Malfoy moved back and gazed into Harry’s eyes. Those eyes were what once haunted him with memories of pain and discontent. The rage, hatred, kindness and compassion which Harry had witnessed. The cold hardening of the silvers and the dark molten flow under lust. They were all directed at Harry at one point, and he was sure he could identify them all now, however, Harry could not decipher the feelings that was held behind the storm.

Harry didn’t have to ask what he was thinking before Malfoy’s lips brushed softly with his own. Stilling, Harry felt some inkling of joy and a whole lot of anger wash through him. Malfoy must not have sensed Harry’s reluctance as he touched his forehead with the other boy and sighed contently, arms still wrapped around both Harry and Teddy. He began to speak:

“Harry, you will not believe my words so easily when I tell you this, considering I was the one who pushed you away in a moment of passion,” – Harry flushed hard – “but you must understand; it’s hard to believe someone so good who you’ve coveted for so long, wants you back. It’s disorientating and uncomfortable. You’re like somebody who stole away my air, but when I’m with you, it’s so easy to breathe again.

“Don’t give me that look – I told you it would be hard to believe, that’s why I’m _explaining_ ,” Malfoy gripped Harry tighter. “Given how our history together has not been so… amicable, it only places doubts in me – silly doubts that I’ve created for myself. Foolish incentives of keeping you at an arm’s length with the thoughts of you safe and happy. But no, it was out of fear of being badly stung by a Stinging Hex –”

“I wouldn’t sting you,” Harry said.

“I know that now. I know because you wouldn’t do anything that would hurt others. And maybe, pardon me if I sound egoistical, but maybe you just wouldn’t hurt _me_. Nor your friends because you _care_ about them, and you also care for me.” Grey eyes shone with the unknown emotions again, “Harry, I’m saying that I’ve fallen for you. I may already have many years ago, but I could not come to terms with it. It’s… it’s a struggle.”

Harry couldn’t even breathe. Here was Draco Malfoy, professing some sort of declaration to Harry. It made his heart painfully contract, swelling, almost bursting with affection. Teddy bounced in his lap, his tiny hands reaching out to Malfoy. When those arms that were holding Harry unclasped and held Teddy instead, Harry almost cried. Teddy, the baby who looked like the two-adult’s child with grey eyes and dark hair.

“You’re impossible,” Harry breathed.

Malfoy turned his attention from the toddler to Harry, his eyes were starting to look sad and disappointed. But Harry wouldn’t allow that.

With a swift manoeuvre, Harry planted a kiss on Malfoy’s cheek, moving onto his nose and the corner of his lips. Harry grinned and let out a small husky laugh before shifting Teddy and putting a firm lock on their lips, Harry didn’t want Teddy to be crushed to death by two males.

Malfoy – Draco returned the kiss, quicker than you can say ‘Snitch’. It was something new, something that Harry had never felt before. The kiss was slow and intense, but the intensity did not stem from lust nor was it for that purpose, it was from their need to connect on an emotional level. It gave them an anchor to what was real. To such broken people, this was how they knew to confirm their feelings.

Everything was warm, his hands, his touch, his breath. Everything felt like flying, Harry’s heart rushed. It felt good, it felt wonderful, fantastic, magical. Harry felt the other man’s tongue dip inside his mouth, and he didn’t shy away. He embraced it, held Draco tight against him, his other hand supporting Teddy. Oh, right, Teddy.

Harry broke away, his eyes blown wide and sparkling. Teddy was struggling impatiently on his lap but soon settled down as Harry gave the tot a dummy to suck on. Draco was struggling to keep the tender smile from his face at seeing Harry so fatherly, so eager to keep him by his side. Harry cooed at the boy, resting his little head against his chest.

“What are we going to do now?” Harry asked Draco.

“After you give that baby off to Andromeda Tonks, we’re going to go to bed.”

“A bit early for sleeping don’t you think?” Harry said. Andy was coming around six in the evening, it made no sense to sleep so early on.

“I wasn’t talking about sleeping,” Draco whispered in Harry’s ear.

The gears worked in his mind. _Oh_ , Harry flushed fiercely before guzzling down his butterbeer and busied himself with the child in his arms. Draco Malfoy wanted to do the dirty with Harry and that thought made him not only unbelievably randy, but also embarrassed beyond accounts. He can only imagine the awful noises he’ll make, just like always. Though his previous lover never really minded.

Oh Merlin, was Draco that too, now? A lover?

Harry was too happy to think of anything else. He spent the rest of Teddy’s visit buying Christmas presents accompanied by Draco. They nattered on about pointless and extraneous things. Harry nor Draco didn’t know that several years from now, they would be clad in formal robes for his own bonding ceremony with the little baby as theirs.


	17. Wasting Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry was going to try and not waste away. Not when he had good reasons to stay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BOI  
> It's the last chapter. It took me so long because I deliberated what to write (Also idk how to write smut lmao)  
> This is their wedding and their night.  
> IT'S DONE NOW
> 
> Thank you for all your comments and kudos. I really appreciate all the time you take reading my shiz. Come and read my other works <3

“Hey, Draco,” Pansy ducked into the room where he was getting prepared in. Draco was mounted on a pedestal, a handsome white dress shirt clung to his torso and deep navy-blue robes with golden trimmings. A white lily was pinned to the left of his chest by a small golden bird brooch. Draco quirked up a nervous smile at his friend before he started to play with the hems of his sleeves.

“How’re you feeling?” she came up to him, placing an intricate wreath of golden leaves on his head.

“I’m fine,” his voice betrayed his feelings as it broke.

She smiled knowingly at Draco’s fraying nerves.

“It’ll be fine. Potter – er, soon to be Malfoy, adores you.” She patted his shaking hand. “If you fuck it up, he won’t even notice.”

“What a load of tosh,” Draco waved dismissively at the notion of him fucking anything up away. “I’d be so perfect that Harry wouldn’t even be able to breathe.”

“Draco, darling, isn’t that the case already?” she drawled.

“I hope so,” he went back to his unusual, jittery self.

“I know so. And so do the others, so let’s get you on that aisle, hmm?”

His mother was standing beneath one of the yellow lanterns, his father by her side and Molly Weasley. They were smiling and exchanging pleasantries. It didn’t look forced nor awkward, just plain adult speak. His father saw him first before the two women followed the same way. His mother, so light and beautiful and elegant, broke into the most un-Malfoy like grin at the sight of her son.

“Draco, darling…” she said in hushed tones. “You look wonderful.”

“Ready for the ceremony?” his father asked.

When Draco came out to his parents about Harry and himself, his mother was tolerable but his father had been insufferable. Draco knew that they, Harry and him, could elope with their bonding. And he suggested it so, but deep down, he still wanted his parent’s blessing – from both parents, not just his mother. Harry had been so sweet about it, never rushing him and always taking the opportunity to show what a suitable partner he was for Draco.

Despite all the horrible tortures Harry had come across, he never once complained about staying over in the Malfoy Manor. He started to read up on pureblood traditions and had ‘courted’ Draco the way one should. Lucius Malfoy, being slightly impressed, became more lenient toward Harry.  _ That’s because everybody loves him,  _ Draco thought,  _ and he shall see how loved he is _ .

“A Malfoy is always ready,” Draco said.

“That’s my son. Potter is lucky to have you.” His father’s eyes gleamed.

“Soon to be a Malfoy.” It was satisfying to say that.

Draco had been ushered out in the open gazebo at Malfoy Manor’s backyard. It was autumn, the grounds were shrouded in beige trees and golden lights floating. Spread down the aisle were hues of brown, orange and burgundy as far as the eyes could see. His guests were sat down in their own formal robes.

He could see Theo near the front; he’d come back from France for his wedding. It was a shame that Blaise couldn’t be here, but Draco knew that Harry wasn’t comfortable with him. And Draco couldn’t really blame Harry. Pansy sat next to her girlfriend, Millicent and Granger had her arms linked with Weasley. It was a vast sea of spectacularly robed relatives, friends and family. Some, Draco noticed, were acquaintances of his father’s or mother’s, but he didn’t mind.

The music began to play softly, a sweet serenade indicating the entrance of his lovely betrothed. At the end of the aisle stood a blushing young man with a messy array of jet-black hair and a lopsided smile. He was dressed in marsala robes, cut perfectly to hug his slender build and give the man a more innocent appeal. Harry had a similar wreath placed upon his head in rose-gold and a narcissus flower placed on his left chest with the same golden brooch Draco wore.

Guests turned in their seat as they stared at the man on the other end of the aisle. Harry’s downcast emerald eyes flicked upwards to meet stormy grey. Mr. Weasley – the man who was posing as the role of Harry’s father – took the crook of Harry’s elbow and Harry linked his arm through the other man’s. Harry didn’t break eye contact with Draco.

Harry started to walk slowly, a shimmering trail left behind by the enchantment on his crown. Harry held the bonding rings on a plush golden cushion, a grin broke out brilliant amongst the falling rosy petals. Draco felt his breath hitch. Oh Merlin, Harry Potter was in bonding robes, about to spend the rest of his life with Draco.

Ascending the few small steps up to the gazebo, Harry beamed while handing the rings over to the Bonding Minister. He stood opposite Draco, a silver ribbon slithered to their joined hands, intertwining with each other. Draco almost felt his heart burst with swelling joy and immense love. It seemed Harry had the same thoughts as his cheeks became more flushed, his eyes crinkling at the corners, his lopsided smile holding unspoken happiness.

“You look dazzling, Harry.” Draco whispered.

“As do you,” Harry breathed back, his voice trembling.

They gazed at each other, unable to really process at the Minister’s words as they were too consumed with the other. Draco appreciated his mother’s work for choosing the bold colours for Harry as he looked absolutely dashing. Draco’s eyes flitted toward the front row seat and saw his mother and father, smiling with tears in their eyes.

Once upon a time, if you’d tell him that he was about to be bonded to Harry Potter, Draco would’ve laughed and hexed that person on the spot – because how dare they mock Draco’s little infatuation. But now, it seemed all so surreal. Here was a flushed Harry, his bronzed skin glowing, his red lips smiling a toothy grin full of love, just for Draco.

“Please exchange your vows,” the Minister said, taking a glass ring and his wand.

Draco took the ring; Harry’s finger was pricked for a little blood to be spilt. Hovering the ring over Harry’s finger, Draco began:

“Harry Potter, for a good amount of my life, you’ve been the only one who would challenge me. I found myself madly in love with you. Like everything with you, it came slowly and then all at once. I vow to support you, push you, inspire you, and above all love you. I shall always be beside you through thick and thin. I shall always be a safe haven for you; to always shelter you from the storm.

“Our differences cast aside, we were both two sides of the same coin. You saved me from a particularly destructive ending and showed me another path. This path,” – Draco slipped the ring through Harry’s finger – “I would like to share with you. For as long as you want me, let us be partners, friends and lovers, today and all of the days that follow. Loving what I know of you and trusting what I don’t yet know, I give you my hand. I give you my love. I give you myself. Will you give me yourself?”

Harry’s eyes shone before the silent tears came tumbling down his cheeks. He sniffled and Draco smiled at the joy that was held in those tears. Who knew that crying could be something so beautiful when it was Harry Potter – soon to be Malfoy – overcome with overwhelming emotions.

“… Mr. Potter?” the Minister broke their silent appreciation bubble.

Harry blushed deeper. “Oh, right, my turn,” he said awkwardly.

The guests laughed good-naturedly. To their eyes, all they saw was the absolutely smitten raven-haired boy, nervous as he held the hands of the equally stricken fiancé. It was endearing to see the fumbling man before him, Draco had to control himself from snogging the life out of Harry. He took the ring and did the same as Draco, slightly trembling as he positioned it over Draco’s lean fingers.

“Draco Malfoy, you came to me in the most unprecedented way imaginable. All too familiar, you came barrelling through my life, determined and unrelenting, to save me from the darkness. You have always been there for me, even if I pushed you out – you would just tell me that your father would hear about it,” scattered laughter filled the atmosphere before Harry slipped the ring onto Draco’s digit.

“Today, I promise you this: I will laugh with you in times of joy, and comfort you in times of sorrow. I accept you as you are, and I offer myself in return. I vow not just to grow old together, but to flourish together. I will love you faithfully through the difficult and the easy. What may come, I will always be there, each one believing that love never dies. As I have given you my hand to hold, so I give you my life and heart to keep.” Harry’s voice broke.

In that moment, Draco’s heart swelled larger at Harry’s words.  _ He makes me so happy, _ he thought as he smiled at Harry,  _ he’s giving me himself to keep _ .

“Will you surround this couple in love, offering them the joys of your friendship? Will you support this couple in their relationship? At times of conflict will you offer them the strength of your wisest counsel and the comfort of your thoughtful concern? At times of joy, will you celebrate with them, nourishing their love for one another?” the Minister addressed the guests.

A chorus of “We will” broke out, some were hushed, some loud, some were choked on tears for the beauty that was Harry and Draco.

“With the power invested in me by Merlin and Morgana themselves, I now pronounce you bonded for life. You may kiss the groom.”

Draco leaned in, his hand cupped Harry’s soft cheek. Their lips brushed for such a fleeting moment before he delved in further. He could hear the joyous applause and cries of his friends and family. He could sense the immense cheerfulness that hung in the air and he knew he should keep it chaste.

But when Harry wrapped his arms around Draco’s neck and whispered the words “ _ I love you _ ”, Draco couldn’t help but tighten his hold on his newly announced husband’s waist and snog the life out of the specky git. Harry laughed against Draco’s lips, he felt the stares of the crowd at their wrapped figure. He lifted the smaller man and swung him around. There were wolf-whistles and giggles from their audience. The new bonded couple couldn’t care less. They were trapped in each other’s gazes.

“Papa!” a tiny voice squeaked.

Teddy came running in his own little blue robes with a burgundy shirt, charging straight toward his parents. Harry released Draco, leaning down to scoop the little tot into his arms. Teddy couldn’t be more than five, his hair the pale shade that mirrored Draco’s and his eyes the bright emerald of Harry’s. Draco stroked the sun-kissed plump cheek before Harry peppered his little face with kisses.

Narcissa Malfoy came over after the child, beaming a very Black-like smile with tear stained cheeks. Harry whirled around and greeted the woman, shifting the kid on his waist and embracing Draco’s mother with one arm.

“Congratulations you two,” she gushed. “Your father and I are so proud of you.”

Lucius Malfoy made an appearance at the mention. He wrapped an arm tightly around the woman and smiled. “Take care of him for me, Harry.”

Harry stumbled over his words, because the statement Draco’s father has said was a definite approval of Harry. Draco knew that Harry couldn’t care less if they accepted him or not, but since it was important to Draco, Harry made it his mission to seek the consent. Draco’s parents chuckled at the gaping man with a child wrapped around his neck, and left them for the other guests.

Draco leaned closer to Harry.

“Welcome to the family, Mr. Malfoy,” Draco whispered low into Harry’s ear.

Harry grinned from ear to ear.

Draco couldn’t help but feel himself pull apart at the seams from his  _ husband and child _ . Harry was officially his to keep forever now. If this wasn’t one of the best days of his life, then he wouldn’t know what was.

\--

Harry was pressed to the wall, his hands pinned above his head and his mouth ravaged by his husband.  _ My husband _ , he thought in delight. Draco fucking Malfoy was his bloody husband and bonded. Draco fucking Malfoy had given his last name over to Harry, now he was Harry Malfoy. And Draco fucking Malfoy was the one to arouse Harry beyond imaginations.

“Draco,” Harry hissed as the blonde nipped the spot behind his ear.

He didn’t relent. His sinful mouth trailed down his neck. Harry was too distracted that he didn’t even notice his robes had pooled at his feet and his shirt was opened until the air grew colder. Draco pulled Harry backwards to the bed. Harry shoved Draco on the bed and quickly discarded his black trousers, pants and socks aside.

Harry stood naked in front of the very clothed Draco. He kissed Draco, his tongue swept across Draco’s bottom lip and Draco breathed ever so slightly into Harry’s opened mouth. A hand slithered around to stroke the line of his spine which Harry shivered to. Draco pulled Harry in sharply, a hand tugging at his arse and the other fisting Harry’s hair, baring his throat to Draco.

Feverish kisses and bites were left everywhere on his neck and chest. Draco squeezed Harry’s bum cheek before letting go and leaned back on his hands, his head lolling to the side. A disappointed moan elicited Harry before he saw the challenging look Draco had sent him.  _ He wants me to undress him _ , Harry bit his lip.

Slowly, Harry pushed the navy robes off Draco’s shoulders and moved onto the buttons of his white shirt. Even if Harry was achingly hard, he wanted to tease the other by slowly peeling off his clothing, showing inch after inch of skin. And that’s exactly what Harry did.

“Harry…” Draco groaned as Harry dropped to his knees and removed his shoes.

He took off Draco’s socks, and started to unbuckle his trousers, giving little kisses across the pale bare abdomen every now and then. Harry contemplated it for a while before he thought, fuck it. Harry pulled the zipper down with his teeth excruciatingly slow, never taking his eyes off Draco, who startled a little at the wanton display, full of lust and want. Ragged breaths came out of the soft lips.

With Draco’s trousers opened, Harry mouthed over his hard bulge, leaving hot saliva on the black material. Draco took a handful of Harry’s hair and brought his face up. Leaning down, Draco kissed Harry heatedly, his tongue doing wicked things to Harry’s mouth. Harry reached down between them and took out the hard cock from the cloth. With a few strokes, Draco moaned into his mouth and released him.

“Suck me,” he commanded.

Harry was only too happy to comply, trailing little kisses as he sunk down to his knees. Draco’s cock was longer and girthier than his, which to Harry was bloody fine. Not by a lot, but it was still noticeable and Harry  _ loved _ this part of Draco. He may love the blonde man with all his heart (and then some), but the first night Draco had taken Harry, it was absolute bliss. He only had one or two others to compare his husband to – but Harry had a quick feeling that Draco ruined other men for him.  _ Which _ , Harry thought,  _ was all bloody fine _ .

Harry kissed the pink head, a trail of precum smearing on his lips. He heard Draco’s breath hitch and Harry felt an immense feeling of proudness and embarrassment. He pecked down the shaft, to the base of his twitching dick and licked a stripe back up to the head. Draco gripped Harry’s hair tighter. He pumped the throbbing cock once before engulfing it all down.

“ _ Oh _ ,” Draco groaned.

It was a beautiful and raw sound which spiked Harry’s arousal more than it already was. Moaning around Draco’s prick, Harry started to bob up and down, taking it deeper into his mouth every suck. Draco stilled Harry’s head and rubbed his jaw, asking permission. Nodding briefly, Harry’s jaw went slack and two firm hands grabbed at his dark locks.

“Oh, oh, oh,” Draco panted as he thrusted into Harry’s hot mouth.

His jaw hurt, that’s for sure. Like he said, Draco was longer and girthier than Harry. Not wanting to brag, but Harry was more than average so the size of his husband was definitely above average. Gripping the clothed thighs, Harry had the faintest smile when he saw the ring on his finger. Draco saw it too and he thrusted one last time before pulling Harry back with a  _ plop _ .

“I don’t want to come yet, love,” Draco pulled off the rest of his clothing off and led Harry fully onto the bed.

Harry was trapped underneath Draco, his body arching to meet with the pale one over him. Draco pushed Harry back down.

“Shh,” he shushed hotly against Harry’s ear. “Lie down quietly. I want you to do something for me tonight.”

Harry didn’t even question anything. He trusted the man with his life and did as he was told. He layed down on his back, awaiting for more instructions from Draco. A couple of heated sessions in, Draco found out that Harry got the hots for people ordering him around. In Harry’s mind, it was like an assertive thing; people who knew what they wanted and knew how to get it were the hottest things he’d ever seen. It might stem from the fact that he was always clueless in his school years and when people knew what to do it gave him comfort, but who was he to analyse it?

“Touch yourself for me.”

He took two fingers and slicked it up, his tongue twirling around the digits. His other hand was fondling his nipples, sending hot sparks down his spine. That was also Draco’s doing. He never had once felt anything of the like and yet Draco made Harry’s body so lewd only for his pleasures. Harry trailed the wet fingers down his body, tracing the outside of his hole. His legs were splayed wide open for Draco to see everything, his eyes locked on pale ones. With a lick of his lips, Harry pushed one finger in, throwing his head back.

“Talk Parseltongue to me.”

That was also one of the many kinks Draco had along with seeing Harry masturbate. He  _ loved _ hearing the hisses that escaped Harry’s red lips. Draco never understood what he was saying, but by the sounds of it, it was something filthy. Harry never complained either. He loved knowing that he could affect Draco just as much as Draco was affecting him.

“ _ Fuck me _ ,” Harry hissed, his fingers plunging deeper into his hole and his body writhing underneath the pinning stare of those grey eyes.

“Yes, Merlin you’re so hot, Harry.” Draco replaced Harry’s fingers and hooked it up, hitting his prostate hard on.

“Ah!” Harry cried out, his back arching again and his legs spread wider.

Draco was revelling in the harsh pants and bitten off cries Harry elicited. It was so dirty and sinful that he thought it should be illegal. He was glad that his previous boyfriend (who looked a lot like Draco) never made him scream out so passionately. Having sex with Draco wasn’t like anything he’d ever experienced, as limited as he was. Sometimes it was rushed, sometimes it was slow and sometimes, Draco wanted Harry to be tortured in the most pleasurable way possible. The point was, it was always something Harry could never get tired of.

“Do you want my cock?” Draco whispered in his ear, his tongue twirling around the lobe. “Say it, Mr. Malfoy.”

“I want your cock.” Harry panted. “I want you.”

“And you shall have me.”

With one swift thrust, Draco was balls deep inside of Harry. He stilled, allowing the other man to adjust.

“Move,” Harry commanded.

Draco moved painfully slow, his hands pinning Harry’s by his head and dragging his cock in and out of Harry’s hole. He shivered, wanting a harder pace, something to slam into him repeatedly. Harry whined, urging Draco to move faster.

“What do you say, Harry?”

“Please,” Harry breathed.

Draco began to really pound. He released Harry’s hands to grip onto his hips and start to move. Draco had this uncanny ability of finding Harry’s prostate with practiced ease. How Draco had become so gentle and wild at the same time, Harry would never know. And he didn’t need to know. He’ll give and take whatever Draco wanted. Because right now, they were in their bed, sheets tangled, breaths mingling and their bodies connected. It felt too good.

 

Harry was going to try and not waste away. Not when he had good reasons to stay.

**Author's Note:**

> So, I started this on my Tumblr (http://snaxarba.tumblr.com/)  
> The characters are, of course, depicted from J.K Rowling's work, Harry Potter. So I take no credit for the amazing world she's made. The only credit I'll take is to contribute a little to the Drarry fanatics lmao.  
> I got positive feedback and people wanted me to continue so I thought - Why not?  
> Made me happy to get such lovely and demanding insistence on my sloppy writing ( I swear I did not grin like an idiot at my laptop screen )  
> Thank you for the support!
> 
> Drop a comment and a Kudos <3


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